Loss and Gain
by Lyra Verse
Summary: AU. No zombies. Rick is having marital problems. Michonne has moved to King's County Georgia with a huge chip on her shoulder. Just how will these two people affect and influence each other while carrying all of their personal baggage?
1. Chapter 1

**-** New multi-chapter fic. AU. No zombies. I will also be working on an apocalyptic multi-chapter fic at the same time as I'm working on this one because I couldn't decide if I wanted to do non-zombie or apocalypse more. So I decided on both! Hope you guys enjoy! Rating for future smuttiness. -

 **Chapter One: Sometimes I Wonder if you Even Care About us at All**

Lori, a willowy woman with long brown hair, was not in a good mood. It was starting to become an everyday thing, and Rick was wondering what it was he could have done to put the frown on her face this time. He fixed his gun belt around his middle and glanced at her as she finished replacing clean dishes. The unnecessary bang of the drawers and the frequent sighs made it clear that she had something on her mind.

Their clean, familiar kitchen bristled with an uncomfortable air.

Wanting to smooth over any friction before he started his day, Rick stepped forward and wrapped his arm around his wife's waist. And for a moment things felt right again. She relaxed against his chest and paused in her chores.

Rick placed a kiss on the top of Lori's head, inhaling her scent as he did so. "I love you, Lori," he whispered.

Her hand landed soft against his and she exhaled. "I love you too..." she answered softly.

The ticking of the clock tocked out a soft rhythm that started and ended with the minute hand at twelve, recording the moment.

"I'm sorry I'm not here as much as you want me to be," Rick said. "But I love you and Carl." He didn't know how she could even entertain the thought that anything was of more importance to him than her and his son. "You know that."

"I know..." Lori admitted. A shaky breath was drawn between her lips. "I just wish...I don't know. Sometimes it feels like...we're just another duty at the office for you."

Rick stiffened. "What does that mean?" he asked.

"Nothing, Rick," Lori said with a sigh, beginning to resume her chores. "We'll talk about it later; go to work."

"No." Rick stepped back and allowed Lori to maneuver around him. "What do you mean by that?"

Lori gave a small shake of her head, that same scent that Rick savored earlier coming to him as a faint trace of what it was before.

Lori didn't want to fight, but she knew the button had been pushed. Whatever button that was. She wished she could go back and change whatever she had said to create the tension again. She wished she could go back and just wish him a good day with his arm around her middle. But it was too late now. She couldn't go back. Neither one of them would allow it. She stopped and faced Rick. His electric blue eyes and his innocently rugged face. "I mean that you put your job on the same level as your family, Rick." Her eyes landed on his and then glanced away to focus on a point over his shoulder. She gave a tiny shake of her head again. "Maybe even moreso. I don't know..."

The statement drifted away. She wanted to go back. But it was too late.

"My job is important, Lori," Rick stated in his raspy voice. His broken, raspy voice.

He was hurt.

Lori looked down and fiddled with the rag in her hands. She hated when he was hurt. She hated that tone in his voice. She hated knowing she put it there. She hated feeling like a bitch.

"But not as important as you or Carl," Rick continued. "You two...are my life. I don't understand why you would feel like that."

Lori shook her head again. She wanted to go back. But the only way she could go was forward. "You barely spend any time with us, Rick," Lori said, looking back up at him. Facing his gaze. Facing the hurt and the pain. She had to face it because she spoke what she knew to be true. It wasn't fair that he made her feel like the bully when she felt just as hurt as he did. "It's always you going out to solve this problem or that problem, working overtime-"

"I'm providing for this family-"

"Yesterday-"

"Everything I do is for you and Carl-"

"Yesterday it was just me and Carl in the house and I forgot-"

"I can't apologize for that-"

"It was just me and Carl and I forgot that I was waiting for you to come home!" Lori raised her voice to speak over Rick. Tears clung to her lashes. "I was thinking how normal it felt for it to be just the two of us. And I forgot that I was even waiting for you to come home."

That pain entered Rick's eyes again. Maybe it never went away. He broke the gaze.

Lori put a trembling hand to her lips. She stared at Rick. Waiting for him to react. To say something. Anything. She wondered if she had hurt him too much this time.

She wanted to go back.

"...I love you, Lori," Rick said, still not looking at her. "I love Carl. I don't know what else to tell you." He shifted on his feet. There was a silence.

"...I'll be back in time for dinner tonight."

Rick left the house. The tears that had been clinging to Lori's lashes slid down her cheeks. He was gone. Again.

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There was a slightly dank and musky smell permeating throughout the small room that the dark skinned woman with dreadlocks sat in. Only a desk and chair, which the woman currently occupied, sat in the middle of the room – the rest of it was bare. There was a short hallway leading from the room. Off of the hallway was an entryway and at the end of the hallway was a bathroom. A box of miscellaneous items sat at the woman's feet. Office items. Items of an older time.

A nameplate with the embedding 'Michonne R.' faced upwards in the box. The framed photo of a handsome black man and a small boy around three years old lay beside it.

Michonne tapped her fingers against the surface of the old wooden desk she sat behind. She was lost in thought. As it was now, the office wasn't much to look at. Neither was the town for that matter. _'King's County_ ,' Michonne thought derisively. 'Right. What king would live in a county like this?' Michonne closed her eyes and sighed.

That didn't matter though. What mattered was what she came here to do.

She opened her eyes and imagined the place as it would be in a couple of weeks. Entirely new. Entirely made over. Entirely hers.

The sharp ringtone of a cellular phone cut through the silence and Michonne answered it. "Hello?" Her voice was full and deep. A voice that had the potential of wielding both softness and an edge. It depended on who she was speaking to and what the topic was.

"Have you made it there yet?"

Michonne smiled at the sound of Andrea's voice on the other end of her cell phone line. "Yes," Michonne sighed. "I'm here." Andrea was an annoying, blonde friend of hers. And Michonne loved her. She never had to guess what the other woman was thinking because she would make sure that it was known to everyone, and in a way that was as blunt as possible. Which she proved in her next sentence.

"I still think you're an idiot for doing this, Mich," Andrea said. "Just come back and beg your father to reinstate your position at the firm-"

"I'm not begging that man for anything," Michonne stated. That edge in her voice coming out.

Andrea's sigh came through the receiver. "Mich..." her voice held a note of worry. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Michonne's eyes landed on the picture of her family. "...Positive..." she affirmed.

"...This is crazy, Mich..."

"Maybe...but who says I'm sane anymore?" There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Look. Andrea. I'll call you once I'm settled in here, okay?"

"...Okay...Just...I hope everything works out for you."

"Yeah. Me too."

They ended the call. Michonne retrieved her nameplate and sat it on her desk, then she placed the photo of her family in the right hand corner of her desk. She studied the photo longingly for a while. Then she bent down to pull a clipping from a newspaper from the box at her feet. The photo beside the article held the face of a blue-eyed man. A blue-eyed man with an innocently rugged face. The caption beneath the photo read 'Rick Grimes'. Michonne sighed, opened the topmost drawer of her desk and placed the newspaper clipping inside.

"Rick Grimes..." Michonne said, her voice hard – cutting through the air like a sharpened blade. She released a breath. "Rick Grimes," she repeated. Her voice was still hard. And distant. "Rick Grimes," she repeated again, looking at the photo. "Rick Grimes." She breathed naturally and forced herself to smile. "Rick Grimes. Rick." That was better. Softer. Warmer. "It's nice to meet you, Rick. My name is Michonne."

Michonne smiled, pleased with herself. Her voice was like honey. She slid the drawer of her desk closed. "It's nice to meet you. Rick Grimes. My name is Michonne."

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"Rick!"

Rick turned at the sound of his best friend, Shane, calling his name. Shane had been Rick's best friend since middle school. He was the wilder one of the two. The "fun" one. When they were younger, Shane would be the one to TP the new guy's yard and Rick would be the one to clean it up. Before the new guy saw it. And without telling Shane about it later on. That way it just worked out best for everyone.

"You goin' to the ranch again man?" Shane asked, stopping in front of Rick with his hands on his hips.

Rick had been gathering his jacket from the back of the chair behind his desk at the sheriff's office.

"...Yeah," Rick said. He shrugged a shoulder. "Thought I'd visit Hershel."

Shane didn't look fully at Rick. He glanced at him and then away. Rick knew that meant he had something to say.

"Yeah?" Rick asked, waiting to hear it.

"Man...I didn't wanna say anything and get all up in your business but uh..." Shane sniffed, preparing his next words. "We know this ain't about you wantin' to visit Hershel." Rick stared at him, squinting his eyes. "This is about you wantin' to get away from the house. Away from Lori."

Rick shook his head. "Shane-"

Shane held up a hand. "Look man, I know this ain't my place. But Lori came to me. Wanted me to talk to you. You know...as your friend and everything."

"She came to you about our marital problems?" Rick asked, disbelief in his voice.

"Lori's a smart woman, Rick. She knows that sometimes what it takes to get a man to listen is to hear it from another man." When Shane didn't get any objection from Rick, he kept going. "That woman loves you, Rick. And I know you love her too. And I just don't see how you runnin' off to do anything but go to your own home is helpin' matters when that's Lori's main complaint about you man. She says you're not home enough. That you don't spend enough time with her and Carl."

"...Is that what you think?" Rick asked, tilting his head. He challenged Shane to answer the question with his stare.

"It don't matter what I think, man! It matters what Lori thinks! And your son." When Rick's gaze dropped to his shoes, ignoring the words he was hearing, Shane decided to answer the question. "But yeah, Rick." He had Rick's attention again. "I think Lori has a point." He ignored the incredulous, hardness that shadowed Rick's face at the statement. "You're lucky to have a woman like her. And a kid like Carl. Most of us would be runnin' out of here to get home if we were in your shoes. Hell, Steve over there spends his weekends with a frozen box dinner and old reruns of _Bonanza_. You don't think he would put a bullet in your back if he thought that could get him a shot at your life?"

"It's true, Rick," Steve piped up from his corner of the office. "And I love you like a brother."

Rick glanced at Steve and shook his head, recognizing the humor even though he wasn't enjoying being berated by a man who claimed to know and understand him better than anyone. Especially after what happened nine months ago.

"See?" Shane continued. "You've gone to the stables every day this week. Just for tonight. Go home."

"You don't understand, man," Rick said, shaking his head. "I love Lori and Carl more than anything and I tried going home more often...working less...I _tried_ it. But it's like...even when I try to do what she wants me to do, I end up doing it _wrong_ somehow and she ends up getting mad anyway. We argue about _everything_. I know if I go home right now, it's gonna be somethin'...I can't help wanting a little break from that."

Shane nodded, hearing what Rick was saying but not understanding it. And not agreeing with it. Rick could tell. "What about Carl, man?" Shane asked. "You wantin' a little break from him too? Because he might be the one getting hurt most of all from all o' this."

Rick shook his head again. He knew he didn't have anything to say to that. It wasn't fair that Carl was caught up in some of the consequences resulting from what he and Lori were going through right now. Whatever it was that he and Lori were going through...

Shane walked away, leaving Rick lost in thought for a moment more. Until he finally sighed and grabbed his coat, heading to the ranch.

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Rick, who had changed into a blue button-up and jeans, held the reins of the horse Hershel had led out to him. It was a beautiful black stallion. "I always enjoy coming out here," Rick said, as Hershel situated the horse's saddle. "This place is beautiful." They were in the middle of a stretch of beautiful greenery. A stable that held about twelve horses sat in the middle of he lot, a large pen with hurdles sat off to the side for the horse's exercise, and a three-mile long trail led from the stable down to a lake that ended Hershel's acreage.

Hershel was an old farmer with two daughters, Beth and Maggie Greene. They lived about a mile away from the stables. Hershel always rented out his horses for training, horse riding lessons, or simply as a date spot for romantic couples. It had actually become quite popular among people in the town of King's County. Hershel was sweet and the place was beautiful.

Rick certainly loved the peace and serenity he found there.

"Still having problems with your wife?" Hershel asked.

Rick sighed. He didn't know why he had told Hershel about his marital problems. It just came so easy to talk to the old man. "I don't really wanna talk about that right now," Rick said. "I came out here because I wanna get away from it for a while."

"I understand that," Hershel said with a nod. He finished placing the saddle and began to reassuringly pat Rick's horse down. "I know _my_ wife and I...we used to get into the nastiest spats. But we always came out stronger on the other side." He faced Rick, blue eyes meeting blue. "Just remember Rick. Things break but they can still grow."

The purr of an engine interrupted the two men. They both looked over to see a royal blue Toyota Solara pull up to a stop beside the stable. Rick's horse began to fidget.

"Shh, shh," Rick soothed, patting it's nose.

He looked back over just in time to see a dark-skinned woman with dreads pulled up into a stylish half up, half down style. She wore tight blue jeans tucked into black boots that came up midway on her shins. A long-sleeve white button-up shirt adorned her torso and it was tied so that a flash of her midriff – a sliver right above the waistband of her pants – could be seen. She closed the door of her car and walked toward the two men, a black hat in her hand.

Rick was unconsciously patting the horse now, somewhat intrigued by the woman that was approaching them. Her eyes were large, her lips were shaped like a heart, and she seemed to be looking right at him.

"Michonne." Rick slid his eyes away from the woman to see Hershel approaching her, a slight exasperation in his tone. "I know I you're new here and you've only come to my ranch once to visit, but I have to remind you that if you drive here, you have to park up at the house. We can't risk the sound of engines spooking the horses. I have a horse called Nervous Nellie that would kick up a storm if she would have been loose when you came driving up."

"Sorry, Mr. Greene," Michonne said. Rick took note of the rich fullness of her voice. "I forgot that rule."

Rick risked another glance their way and saw that Michonne was definitely looking at him. Surprised to be caught in her gaze, he nodded a greeting.

"Come here," Hershel said, noticing the two people noticing each other. "Let me introduce you to Rick. Have you two met already?"

"No, we haven't," Michonne answered, following behind Hershel until his footsteps led her to Rick. She stopped in front of him.

Rick stared at Michonne, finding it difficult to look away. There was something demanding in her gaze.

"Rick, this is Michonne. Michonne, Rick," Hershel introduced.

"It's nice to meet you, Rick," Michonne said, holding out a hand. "I'm Michonne."

"It's nice to meet you too," Rick said, taking her hand. Her grip was warm and strong. "I'm Rick."

"Michonne just moved to King's County," Hershel continued. He turned to Michonne. "Rick's the sheriff's deputy there."

"Oh," Michonne said, nodding. "I'm surprised I haven't seen you around until now. King's County is so small, seems like I had seen everybody by the second day."

"I'm surprised I'm just now seeing you too," Rick said.

Michonne tilted her head, taking note of his strong Southern drawl.

"I usually know days ahead of time before someone comes into town," Rick continued. "Like you said, it's a small community. Therefore everyone is in everyone else's business. When did you move in?"

"A week ago." Rick gave her a once-over, again surprised that he hadn't seen or heard anything about her. He made it his business to know everything about who was in his town. It was sort of his job.

"A week ago, really," Rick asked.

"Yeah."

"What brings you to King's County?"

"I'm opening up a law office here. Going into business by myself."

Rick's mouth fell open. "Oh!" he said, bits and pieces of talk coming into his mind. "Yeah! I _have_ heard that there was someone coming to open a law office! I just didn't know that you were here already!" He chuckled.

"Here I am," Michonne said, splaying her arms out.

"She came to me the other day and said she wanted to take riding lessons," Hershel piped in, already leading out an auburn-colored horse Rick knew to be named Flame. He turned his full attention to Michonne. "Now, I usually get one of my daughters, Beth or Maggie, to oversee the lessons but Beth has come down with the flu, poor thing, and Maggie has gone off on a two-week vacation."

"Oh..." Michonne's eyes landed on Rick. "Well, Rick...looks like he knows what he's doing," she suggested. "Maybe he can give me some pointers."

Rick was slightly surprised but he didn't let it register on his face. Hershel smiled. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. He needs to focus on something besides moping anyway."

Recovering from his surprise, Rick chuckled. "I don't mope." He turned back to Michonne. "But yeah...yeah, I think I can show you some basics."

"Good," Hershel said. "I was thinking I was gonna have to teach you myself. I'd much rather rest these old bones back up at the house."

"I'll be expectin' to get paid for this," Rick joked.

"Yeah, keep expectin'..." Hershel quipped back, walking back towards the stable to tend to the other horses.

Rick chuckled as Hershel disappeared back into the stable. He turned back to Michonne, who was still studying him silently. "Come on," Rick said. He tilted his head toward the trail and began to pull his horse after him. Michonne took her horse's reins and did the same. "We'll go on the trail for a couple of miles."

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"So where are you from?" Rick asked before they mounted their horses. "You don't look like you usually navigate to places like this."

Michonne turned to Rick. "What gives it away?" she asked.

Rick smirked, looking her up and down again. "Your city-girl attempt at a country-gjrl style."

Michonne's lips turned up into a smile. Rick was proud of himself for making it happen. "Noted," Michonne said. She lifted the hat she carried. "Hat or no hat?"

"You might as well go all the way," Rick said with a shrug.

Michonne immediately donned the hat. She tilted her head up so that she could see Rick's face from underneath the brim. "Good?"

"I'd say you were fully prepared to go horse-ridin'," Rick said. "Here. Let me help you up onto your saddle." Michonne turned to her horse and grabbed the top of the saddle. She placed one leg in the stirrup and prepared to push herself up onto the horse. She felt Rick's hands come around her waist for support. She smirked before easily lifting herself up and throwing her leg over the other side of the saddle, successfully mounting there. Rick's hand brushed across her thigh as he pulled away.

"You have rough hands," Michonne stated that fact judging from what she had felt against the sliver of skin she bared while he was helping to lift her into the saddle.

"Yeah. I'm sorry," Rick said looking at his hands.

"No, it's a good thing," Michonne assured. "Means you're a hard worker. My dad had rough hands. It makes you feel like you're in the hands of a capable man when you can feel the work he's put into life through his fingers."

Rick stared up at Michonne. She had never been on a horse before, but she sat on the back of Flame like she belonged there. She looked absolutely regal. Rick looked away. "Your dad okay with you moving to a town like King's County, Georgia?" he asked.

"No," Michonne answered.

Rick waited for the rest of the story, but it didn't come. He realized she must not want to go into it. "Okay," he said, changing the subject. "Well, you've mastered the first step in horse riding. Which is getting into the saddle. You're already proving to be a better student than I was; it took me five tries."

Michonne chuckled. Rick enjoyed the sound. It came from her chest. "And when did you start learning?" she asked.

"When I was twelve."

Michonne nodded. "Sounds about right," she said. Before Rick could ask what she meant, she continued. "Let me guess. You've lived here all your life. You have no desire to go anywhere else. You married your high school sweetheart. And you're just waiting to grow old and retire as the best damn sheriff in King's County."

Rick climbed up onto his own horse and glanced over at the exotic-looking woman beside him. "Pretty boring, huh?" He wished he could talk about an exciting trip that he had taken, but nothing came to him.

"Not boring at all," Michonne said. "Do you know the first things I realized about you when I saw you back there?"

"What?" Rick asked.

"One, you're handsome. Two, you're married. And three...it wasn't until I saw you that I realized just how much I'm looking forward to staying in King's County."

Michonne watched a blush form across Rick's face. He felt like she was flirting with him, but it had been so long since anyone had flirted with him that he felt like he may be mistaking polite compliments for flirtation.

"Th-thank you," Rick stammered. "Well, I'll make sure to make you feel at home. Introduce you to some people. I can even show you around if you'd like."

"I'd love that," Michonne said.

"Great," Rick said. He glanced over and caught Michonne's warm gaze before facing ahead again. The horse beneath him shifted, picking up on the flustered feelings of its owner. "Well...let's get going," Rick said. "The first thing you wanna do when steering your horse is pick up the reins. Just hold them in your hand for now, we won't be using them much for now since we'll just be walking slowly straight ahead. Dig your heels _gently_ into the horse's side..."

Rick's horse began to walk slowly ahead as he demonstrated what he was saying. The warm expression on Michonne's face froze and hardened.

'Enjoy it while you can, Rick,' she thought. 'I'm going to destroy your family. Just like you destroyed mine.'

\- Revenge fic! We'll find out a little more about why Michonne wants revenge in the next chapter. -


	2. Chapter 2

\- Sorry for the long wait for an update. The wait between updates won't be so long once my summer officially begins - that will be in a couple of weeks. -

 **Chapter Two: I Am a Monster**

The water of the lake was only slightly disturbed with little ripples as the two horses, auburn and black, quenched their thirst and took some relief from the hot sun. Michonne patted her horse down, it's mane soft beneath her hands.

Rick glanced over at her.

"You're a natural," he said, referring to her horse riding. "Better than me when I first started."

Michonne turned to him with a smile on her lips. "Yeah, well, you're a great teacher."

"Barely."

A silence between two strangers descended.

Michonne took the hat off of her head and placed it on her horse. She laughed when the horse, disturbed by the object, shook its head with an irritated huff and sent it falling onto the surface of the lake. Rick moved forward and retrieved it before it could float away.

"You come here a lot?" Michonne asked, the ghost of a smile still on her face, as Rick handed her the hat.

"More and more recently in the past week," Rick said with a shrug. "It's really beautiful out here." His eyes scanned the trees and the lake, taking in the beauty that he spoke of.

"It is..." Michonne said. Her eyes stayed on Rick. He could feel her staring at him; it unnerved him because he felt like she could see all of him – even the parts he kept hidden.

He cleared his throat.

"Where did you live before this?" he asked, focusing his eyes on the surface. He was trying to make casual conversation.

"Atlanta," Michonne answered. "I worked at my father's law firm."

"And you left the city to move out here. Why?"

"Would you believe it if I said I just really love the country?" Michonne asked, a small smile on her face.

"Sure," Rick said with the shrug of a shoulder. "There's a lot to love."

"Spoken like a true countryman..." Michonne placed the recovered hat firmly on her head again and she turned to Rick with a full smile. It surprised him. She hadn't been stoic until now but the small smiles she had presented before were nothing compared to this. He could even claim that there was a kind of distance to her smiles before – like she was halfway there and halfway somewhere else. But this was different. To be faced with a full smile that brightened her whole face left him feeling immediately warm. He couldn't help but to smile in return.

"Take a picture of me and save it into your phone," Michonne instructed. "I'm going to give you my number and you'll need a reference photo to know when I'm calling."

"You're going to call me?" Rick asked, shifting on his feet. Placing his hands on his hips. Blushing slightly. "Why?"

Michonne shot him a confused look. "You...agreed to show me around King's County. Introduce me to people."

"Oh! Right!" Rick said, feeling embarrassed and silly. "Of course. Right. Because you're new and you don't know anyone yet...Right. Sorry. I don't know why I'm acting so strange."

Michonne chuckled. "I know why," she supplied. Rick looked at her curiously. "It's probably because you're picking up on the fact that I find you quite attractive. And quite charming."

Rick got caught in her insistent gaze once again as a light breeze kicked up and picked up strands of the horses' manes and disturbed the birds in the trees so that they released low chirps and chitters. Rick glanced away. He wasn't quite sure what was happening here. So he decided to avoid it altogether. "We should probably start heading back," he said, nodding back up the trail. "I gotta get back home; my wife's waiting for me."

'A not-so-subtle mention of the wife,' Michonne thought with a smirk playing across her face. 'This is going to be easier than I thought.'

"You're not gonna get that picture first?" Michonne asked. "I'd love to have a friendly face show me around in my first few days here."

Rick seemed to contemplate her words for a moment before he politely declined. "I'll be able to find you. Like you said. It's a small town."

Michonne quirked her eyebrows. 'Okay...Maybe not so easy...'

"Okay," Michonne said. "Can you help me back up onto my horse?"

"Sure..."

Rick moved behind her and placed his hands on her waist to help hoist her into the saddle. Michonne placed one foot in the stirrup and bounced on one leg to prepare for the lift, but before she pulled herself upwards she turned over her shoulder to look up at Rick. "If you're not sure what my intentions were before, I'd like to clarify." Their gazes were locked and they were close enough now that they could smell each other's scents. Both of the scents a mix of sweet and natural. "I was flirting with you," Michonne stated in a straightforward manner. "I think you're a handsome man, Rick."

She pulled herself up onto the horse, Rick absentmindedly supporting her since he was no longer a fully active participant – his slight shock at her words distracted him.

Once he recovered slightly, he chuckled figuring she must simply be acting playful with him. "Well, I'm marri-"

"You're married," Michonne said, looking down at him while he looked up at her. His blue eyes squinting. "I know," Michonne continued. "I don't care." She was no longer smiling. She was serious.

The amusement fell away from Rick's face to be replaced with confusion and apprehension.

Michonne enjoyed seeing the wary expression cross Rick's face. That was the face of a man who felt like he was in trouble. That was the face of a man who could be shaken.

She turned her horse around and gently dug her heels into its sides, leading it up the trail and back towards Hershel's ranch. "You should hurry if you want to make it home before dark," Michonne said over her shoulder.

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Rick arrived at home to find Carl and Lori sitting on the couch playing a competitive racing video game. It was a game Carl had taught her to play a few weeks ago and she was quickly gaining efficiency and the merciless attitude required to beat her son.

"A-ha! Take that," she jibed as her racing car crossed the finish line first.

"Dumb luck," Carl shot back playfully.

Rick smiled. No matter the problems with his wife, it always warmed his heart to see his small family interacting happily. He just wished it could stay that way.

"Dumb luck...right...More like skill." Lori ruffled Carl's hair while he tried to duck away and she finally became aware of Rick's presence. The way the smile on her lips and the twinkle in her eyes faded away slightly didn't go unnoticed by Rick. She was upset at him. Again.

"I'm home," Rick said unnecessarily. "I'm going to head up and take a quick shower." He met Lori's eyes meaningfully, letting her know they would talk later.

"Dad!" Carl said, turning to him with a smile. "You wanna watch me clean Mom's clock?"

Rick put a smile on for his son. "From the looks of things when I came in, your mother was the one cleaning _your_ clock," he teased.

"That was a fluke. Come on, Dad. Watch us play! And then you can play against the winner."

"Later, Carl," Rick said walking forward to casually run his hand through Carl's hair because he knew how much he was starting to hate it (sure enough, Carl ducked away). "I have to get out of these clothes."

"Okay..." Carl said, a disappointed note to his voice.

"Come on, baby," Lori said to Carl. "Let's keep playing. That's if you're okay with keeping up with your losing streak, that is."

"I've only lost once!" Carl retorted, focusing back in on the game.

"Yeah well, there's gonna be much more where that came from..."

Rick smiled at the sound of their voices bantering as he made his way to the bathroom to let the spray of the shower wash his stress away.

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"You disappointed him..." Lori said later that night as they pulled back the covers to climb into bed.

Rick sighed. "I'll make it up to him. I can always play video games with him another time."

"When?" Lori asked. "You keep saying 'another time', 'another time'...There's not always going to be an 'another time'."

Rick stopped in his movements to settle onto his side of the bed and stared at her with a squint. "What is this about?" he asked. "I know you're not just upset about me not playing a video game with our son."

"No, I _am_ upset about that. Why couldn't you just sit down and play one game with him! It wouldn't have taken but fifteen minutes!"

"Carl knows I love him okay. I don't have to play a video game with him for him to know that, alright? I had had a long day-"

"You had a long day?! You got off duty hours ago; you could have come home-"

"Shh! Keep your voice down!" Carl was in the next room and Rick didn't want him to wake up to the sound of arguing voices.

"You could have come home," Lori said, adjusting her volume. "Instead of going to that ranch. Maybe then you would have had time for your son."

Rick sighed.

"You know what? I can't do this right now," he said. "Let's finish this in the morning." He turned to turn off his light.

Lori's frustration grew. It felt like a festering wound inside of her that could never fully heal because it was never fully looked at. She wanted to yell and scream and argue about nothing so that they could get to the part of her that really hurt, but Rick was always so eager to nip their fights in the bud. To brush their problems away or avoid them altogether. Maybe the frustration he felt cooled after getting a good night's sleep but it only built for Lori.

'Talk to me! Argue with me! Scream at me!' she wanted to yell at him.

But she felt crazy for wanting that. Or needing that. So she just slid down beneath her sheets with a huff and turned the lamp on her nightstand off.

Maybe this time, like him, the frustration wouldn't fester but would instead fade after a good night's sleep.

"Good night, Rick," she said.

"Good night, Lori. I love you."

"I love you too."

000000000000000000000000000000000000

Michonne sat in the bedroom of her new house, her legs pulled up to her chest and her back pressed against the headboard.

Everything about this place felt unfamiliar. And strange. Her house wasn't even fully decorated yet. All of her items were still boxed and sitting in her living room. Her furniture sat messily dispersed throughout the house, unmoved from where the movers had dropped them off.

Only her bedroom was unpacked and fully decorated. It was where she had spent most of her time since moving in.

She felt her mattress dip down as Mike's weight got added to it. She always knew when he was home because his entrance into their bed would always wake her from her slumber.

" _What are you doing?_ " he asked, his voice deep like it always was.

She didn't look at him. She knew there was no reason to.

"I'm seducing him," she answered.

" _Why?_ "

"He's an immoral man who thinks he has morals. That's the worst kind of man."

" _Do you really believe that?_ "

"Yes."

" _Usually you have good instincts people. I know you. I can read you very well. This man didn't strike you as the monster you wanted him to be._ "

"Most monsters don't show that they're a monster. It's something that has to be revealed. He doesn't have to show me anything. I know what he did. _That_ is a monster."

" _Then what are you?_ "

"What do you mean?"

" _You've seen him. How he is around his wife. You've observed them from the moment you set foot in this town. You know he loves her._ "

"They have problems."

" _Yeah, but he loves her._ "

"That's why it'll hurt so much when he loses her. Due to his own foolish choices. The way to break a man who thinks he has principles is to make him break those principles. Then he's nothing."

" _He has a son._ "

"So? So did we."

" _You're the monster._ "

"I am. I am a monster."

000000000000000000000000000000000

 **10 Months Ago**

"Mike. Don't go. I have a bad feeling about this." Michonne held her son, Andre, on her lap. He was leaning against her chest, drowsily batting his eyes.

They were in their high-rise apartment. Mike was standing and pacing the the room while Michonne sat. She was in an off-the-shoulder green shirt and white pants while he was in a T-shirt and jeans. It was an off day for both of them. Michonne didn't have to go into the law firm that day and Mike didn't have to meet any artists for his managing job at the local museum.

"Believe me," Mike said. "I'm not any happier about having to go down to this honkydonk town just to – once again – try to dig my brother out of the hundredth mess he's gotten himself into."

"What's he even doing down there?" Michonne asked. "I thought he was in Los Angeles the last time you talked to him."

"You know my brother. He don't stay in one place for long. This time he wants me to set him up in New York or something."

Michonne shook her head. "I think it's admirable how loyal you are to your brother," she said. "But until he gets his shit together, I think you need to cut him off."

Mike shook his head. "I can't. That's my blood. I can't turn my back on him when things get hard."

"I just don't like the influence he has on you," Michonne countered. "You know what happened last time..."

"That wasn't his fault."

"You had kicked your habit and then you met him and you fell off the wagon. That was a hard time for both of us."

"I know," Mike said, stopping his pacing long enough to look at her seriously. He went to her and knelt before her, placing his hands on her knees. "And I'm so grateful to you for helping me through that and sticking with me throughout my stupidity. Nothing like that will _ever_ happen again. I don't want to risk losing you."

They came together and their lips met in a simple kiss.

"Okay..." Michonne said. "I still don't like it...But if it's something you feel like you need to do..."

"It is..." Mike said.

They kissed again. Andre looked between the two of them, a curious smile on his small face.

"What did you say this place was called again?"

"King's County," Mike said. "King's County, Georgia."

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Jaws dropped and the men stared when Michonne walked into the sherriff's office for the first time.

The first floor of the sherriff's office was just as Michonne imagined it to be. All sherriff's offices looked pretty much the same once you'd seen enough of them. This one was just a little smaller than some of the others. The room she walked into was small and grey. Desks lined the space and two officers sat at each one. One across from the other. About ten officers were there, along with Rick who sat at the further end of the room at a desk of his own. A brunette man with sharp brown eyes and a nice build was perched at the end of the other man's desk.

All eyes were on Michonne.

She wore a blue dress that hugged her body and fell to her knees. The collar of the dress displayed her collarbones and high heels adorned her feet. Her dreadlocks were swept up into a becoming bun.

Most of the men in King's County weren't used to seeing a woman dressed up as fancy as she was on a casual Friday. Which this was. But they sure didn't mind the unexpected change of pace.

"Well, who is this?" the brunette man who had been sitting on the edge of Rick's desk asked. He was currently on his feet and walking towards her, not bothering to hide the appreciation of what he saw in his eyes.

"She came to see Rick," the young officer who had met Michonne at the door said to the man who was now standing in front of Michonne. "She's the new attorney that just came to town."

"Attorney, huh?" Michonne shook the hand that was held out to her and she continued to stare at the man who was so obviously appreciative of her body; she didn't shy away. "Well, King's County is blessed to have you in town, I'm sure. I'm Shane. What's your name?"

Michonne smiled and removed her hand from Shane's grip. She held a stack of files and folders in her arm and from one of them, she pulled a business card. "My name is Michonne," she said, handing it to him. "And I'd appreciate it if you weren't so obvious about checking me out in the workplace. We're both professionals here."

A short silence fell over the office and then there were a few snickers and teasing words at Shane's expense. A bemused, crooked smile lifted his lips and he lifted his eyebrows, shocked to have been called out in front of everyone. "Fair enough," he said. "Didn't mean you no offense."

"None taken," Michonne said. "Just wanted to draw lines where they're needed." A small smile touched Michonne's lips. "Maybe outside this building we can erase them."

Shane was again shocked at the woman before him and his bemused smile turned into one of intrigue. He knew immediately that he was facing an admirable woman and she would be a welcome asset to the community. He was about to say something else when Rick came up behind him.

"How can I help you?" Rick asked. There was a strange note to his voice, not altogether welcoming.

Michonne noticed it. "Well," she said, opening the folder in her arm again. "I came to see if this police office can display my business card and refer people to me if they seem to be in need of legal advice..."

"Of course," Rick said. Shane took the stack of business cards that she held out to them.

"And..." She met Rick's eyes. "I'd also like to talk to you alone. If that's possible."

Rick sighed and looked around. Looking for a reason to refuse. "Well...I'm kind of busy right now...so we can't be long..."

That was the best he could do.

Michonne nodded and, after casting a glance at Shane, Rick led her to a private area outside of the sherriff's department. "What is it?" he asked, his piercing blue eyes squinting from the daylight and his hands on his hips.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry if I made things uncomfortable for you when I admitted my attraction to you at the ranch. I'd like to attribute my being straightforward to being a lawyer and not wasting time in getting to the point of the matter, but that wouldn't be entirely true. What I did was thoughtless. And I don't want it to interfere with any kind of friendship we could have."

Rick released a sigh; he didn't know why he was so relieved. "It's okay," he said. "I know how it can feel to move to a new town. It's scary being all alone in a new place."

Michonne nodded. "That's part of reason why I knew I needed to make things right. I don't want you to avoid me. You're the first person I've had a real conversation with since coming here. I would love to get to know you better, have you show me around, introduce me to people...and I you can't do that if you're avoiding me due to discomfort." She chuckled. "It would also help my business. I've finally managed to make my office look like an office and no one is there to see it."

"Well, to be fair..." Rick said. "There's not much high crime in King's County. The only complaint you're bound to get in your first few weeks here is someone stealing someone else's pig. The Ryersons complain about that a lot."

Michonne laughed. "Well, that would be better than nothing."

Rick was again struck by the beauty of her smile. He stepped away from her, feeling like she was too close. "Are you getting settled in here okay?" he asked.

Michonne nodded. And then shrugged. "Somewhat. I still haven't managed to unpack my house. Just finding it difficult to get myself started."

"Well, I can help you," Rick volunteered. "I can also get some of the guys here to agree to help out."

"That would be great. It's like you said. I just feel so strange here. Which is probably why I'm holding off on the unpacking. That will mean I've committed to this town. To this life. Won't it? It's obvious I don't know what I'm doing. I don't even know what to wear around here. The guys in there all looked at me like I had two heads when I walked in with this dress on."

"That's not why they were staring at you," Rick said quickly.

'Oh, he's so easy,' Michonne thought. She quirked an eyebrow. "Don't tell me they were all like your boy Shane. Not able to tear their eyes away 'cause I was so beautiful?"

"That's exactly why," Rick said, a slight blush tingeing his cheeks.

"Oh, please..." Michonne said.

"It's true," Rick said with a slight chuckle. "You were like a breath of fresh air to many of those guys who just see the same people all the time."

Michonne smiled. "Fine. I'll take the compliment. Will you be going to the ranch again anytime soon?"

"...I don't know," he said, feeling a strange hesitance to tell her if he was or wasn't.

"Well, I am," Michonne said. "I'll be going there again on Wednesday. Get a better handle on that horse riding business. I'd love to see you there."

Rick nodded. "Yeah, I don't know," he said again.

Michonne nodded and before Rick knew what was happening, she stepped forward and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. Rick inhaled and Michonne's scent filled his nostrils as she pressed against him. She had only been in his space for a second, pressing her lips against his skin for a short while but he felt exposed.

"Michonne..." he started.

"No kisses?" Michonne asked.

"No kisses," Rick affirmed.

Michonne nodded. "Understood. I'll keep my hands – and lips – to myself." She began to back away. "It was nice seeing you today, Rick. I hope I see you at the stables."

She walked away and Rick released a breath he didn't know he was holding when she was gone. Again, he felt confused and unsure. Since when did welcoming a newcomer to the community feel so dangerous? He was going to find a time to help her unpack her house; he probably wouldn't bother anyone else about helping. He knew he was going to be at those stables on Wednesday – he read that the weather would be good that day so it was as good a day as any to go. He told himself it was all very innocent. So why did he feel so guilty?


	3. Chapter 3

\- Finally! An update! And classes are over so I'll try to make these more regular from now on. -

 **Chapter 3:** **She's Too Unpredictable**

She was warm. She was funny. She took no bullshit. These were all things Rick was learning about Michonne as he spent more and more time with her.

"Rick, if that photo looks straight to you then you need your eyes checked."

It had been a week since Michonne had shown up at the police precinct and handed out her cards. Rick had agreed to help her unpack her house and he was doing as promised. He had set aside an hour each day to help her do so.

They had gotten almost everything unpacked and were moving into the final stretches. Rick was now hanging a photograph by some famous photographer whose name he couldn't pronounce but whom Michonne had gone on and on about. It had both intrigued and awed him that she knew so much about a photograph. But he had learned soon enough that she was into art. He had found that out by the extensive collection of paintings he had had to help her carry up to her attic.

She had complained, saying that stowing such art away in the attic to collect dust was an insult and a crime, but Rick had finally been able to convince her with the simple, hard fact that she just did not have the room to display all of it.

"This isn't your high-rise apartment in Atlanta," Rick had said gently, finding it difficult to put a damper on her decoration expectations – no matter how impractical. "This is an old two-bedroom with no wall space and a moldy floor-"

"You really think that was mold?"

"I'm just joking."

"Oh, good."

"The point is you just don't have room for your art gallery."

Michonne had graced him with a small smile at his jibe about her many paintings. Finally she had just said, "Fine..." and they had moved most of the paintings up to the attic.

But the photograph had been non-negotiable.

"That stays," Michonne had said definitively.

Rick was now hanging it – improperly apparently – where Michonne instructed him to. Above the couch in her living room. Right in the center of the wall. The framing was pretty large and heavy so Rick wasn't particularly enjoying the task.

He looked over his shoulder to where Michonne stood supervising him, her hands on her hips. She wore a sleeveless, flimsy white button-up. It was see-through so she wore a white tank underneath. The button-up was tucked loosely into a becoming pair of fitted jeans. Her bare feet peeked out beneath the hems, and her dreads were swept up into a careless bun.

"Do you want to do this instead?" he asked the woman who was enjoying bossing him around a little too much.

Michonne simply smiled at him and didn't answer. She knew Rick wouldn't abandon the task now that he had started, and he wouldn't make her do the heavy lifting (even though Michonne was more than capable of doing it) – he was too much of a gentleman. Michonne had found that out when Rick showed up at her door in a casual shirt and jeans, sleeves rolled up, ready to get to work helping her organize her house. The man was Southern hospitality personified.

It was something that perplexed and annoyed Michonne because his roll-with-the-punches, gentle attitude wasn't a testament to the man Michonne had convinced herself he really was.

She sat down on the carpet and folded her legs beneath her.

"Wha-? You're sitting down now?" Rick asked, craning to look at her in bemused disbelief.

"It's so that I can observe better," Michonne said.

"I don't think sitting down will help. You need to be at eye-level."

"Not so, Grimes. Take it left."

Rick sighed, shook his head, and then moved the photo to the left. It was better to just do as she instructed than fight her on this. The photo was starting to grow heavy in his hands. "Here?" he asked.

"A little more."

"To the left?"

"Yeah."

Rick shifted it more to the left.

"I was wrong," Michonne retracted. "Take it the other way."

Rick took it back over to the right. "Like this?"

"Yeah...You know what? No. Put it back where you had it before."

Rick sighed and shifted the photo once again before looking over his shoulder to the now lounging Michonne. She was stretched out on her side on the carpet, her head propped on one hand. A sneaking suspicion landed in Rick's stomach. "Are you messing with me?"

"I don't know. Do you feel messed with?" A slow, teasing smile lifted Michonne's lips.

Rick's own lips followed her lead and rose into an embarrassed grin. He chuckled. "Thoroughly." His muscles tired, he just lifted the photo again and balanced it as well as he could before stepping back off of the couch and taking a look. "That looks pretty good to me," he said. "What you think?"

"I think I like the view." Michonne's tone, silken and sultry, made him turn and blush when he saw that she wasn't looking at the photo at all. He quickly averted his gaze. "You deserve tea for the hard work you've put in." She stood up and began to make her way to the kitchen.

"No," Rick said. "I should get going. It's my only day off this week; I promised my wife I would spend time with Carl today."

"Carl...Is that your son?" Michonne asked, her voice coming from the kitchen because she had already disappeared inside.

"Yeah," Rick said. "He's gonna be turning eleven soon. We were gonna feel him out today, see how we can surprise him for his birthday."

"Well," Michonne said, appearing in the doorway again. Her arms were folded across her chest and she leaned against the door frame. "Why don't you get him a pony? All kids like ponies. And you seemed to hit it off with Flame the last time we were at the ranch."

Rick smiled, remembering the visit he had made to the ranch that week. He had gone on Wednesday and Michonne had been there, just as she said she would be. Hershel had wanted them to feed the horses before taking them out on the trail and Rick had made the mistake of feeding Flame too much of her favorite snack – sugar cubes – and the horse had stuck to his side all day waiting for its next treat.

"That would definitely be a surprise," Rick said. "But there's no way we could afford a pony, and we have no room for it. _And_ my wife would kill me."

"Does your wife not like horses?"

"No; she loves them. But reasons one and two would be her main concerns."

"Well, I don't know how to fix one of those problems, but you could always just leave the horse at Hershel's farm and take your son up there to visit the horse whenever you can. I'm sure he would love it."

"You know?" Rick said. "That's actually...not a bad idea..."

Michonne lifted her hands and shrugged. "What can I say? I'm sort of a genius."

Rick laughed. "Is that tea almost done? I can probably stay for one glass."

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Michonne stared at the ice melting in the two glasses before her. She had finished preparing the tea while Rick went to the bathroom to wash his hands. Her face was completely devoid of the smiles and the humor of moments before.

Mike pulled out a chair at the table and took a seat.

" _What's the matter?_ " he asked with that nonchalant shrug of his shoulders that was so inherently him.

"It feels wrong," Michonne responded softly. "Even though I'm just pretending, it feels wrong to smile and laugh with the man who...the man who killed you."

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

 **9 Months Ago**

Michonne sat on the couch in her Atlanta high rise and played patty cake with Andre on her lap. She was laughing carelessly, enjoying time with her son, trying to keep her mind off of the last phone call she had had with Mike. Not even a month had passed since he had been gone and he had called her, obviously high on something.

Michonne didn't know how much longer she could deal with it. She wanted to be there for him, but she couldn't allow this to continue. The lying, the going back and forth...any of it. If not for her then for her son; she couldn't have Andre around that.

The television had been playing with the volume on low and she hadn't been paying much attention to it, but the words "King's County" suddenly caught her attention.

"Two local police officers in the small town of King's County, Georgia, have been involved in the shooting of an African American man named Mike Johnson." Michonne froze, her eyes wide with a shock that had paralyzed her instantly, and stared at the screen as the photo of the familiar face of her lover appeared onscreen.. "The victim, Mike Johnson, was found dead at the scene. His body held no evidence of suspicious paraphernalia and no weapon. The two officers, Rick Grimes and Shane Walsh, are being questioned about the happenings. Both officers are well-known and well-liked around town. Rick Grimes is the sherriff's deputy and it has been proven that the fatal bullet came from his gun. The lack of incriminating evidence on the suspect, however, is making certain residents suspect racial profiling-"

It suddenly grew quiet. Michonne's senses shut off. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Mike Johnson. The man she loved...the father of her child...was dead. Just like that.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

 **Present**

"Hey. Hey, Michonne!"

Michonne jolted back to the present with Rick's voice.

"Hey," he said, taking note of her odd expression. "You okay?"

Michonne stared at Rick for a moment and had to remind herself that she was suppressing her hate for this man.

Rick shifted on his feet uncomfortably, having been faced with her glare before her face cleared.

Michonne shook her head and chuckled weakly. "Sorry," she said. "I don't know where I went for a minute there."

"It's okay. You're probably just tired," Rick said. "I should go..."

"No," Michonne said, stopping him. "Have your tea first. I made it extra sweet. Just for you." She swept the cold glass off of the table and held it out for him. Grasping her own glass of tea in her other hand.

"I don't like it too sweet," Rick said, wrapping his hand around the glass to take it anyway.

But Michonne withdrew it before he could take it from her hand. "Then..." she said, holding out the other drink. " _This_ one's for you. It's less sweet."

Rick smiled and took it from her. The perspiration from the glass felt good against his skin. The warmth of Michonne's fingers glided past his own with a slight brush as she released the drink.

"I like sweet," Michonne said, bringing what used to be Rick's glass to her lips. She took a drink. Rick's eyes followed the line of her neck as she swallowed. He quickly looked away and took a drink from his own glass.

"Mm," Rick said, enjoying the taste. "So," he said after swallowing the satisfying liquid down. "Are you enjoying King's County so far?"

"I'm still getting used to it," Michonne answered. "It's quiet."

"Not used to the quiet?"

"Not used to _this_ quiet." Michonne met Rick's eyes. "Makes a girl feel lonely."

Rick held her gaze. He was getting used to her ways. "Hmm," he chuckled softly. "You should start flirting with a man who can actually flirt back," Rick said boldly before taking another drink of tea.

Michonne chuckled in return, slightly surprised that Rick had actually broached the subject. "You can flirt back," she said. "It's harmless."

Rick shook his head. "I'm not gonna fall for _that_ trick."

"It's not a trick," Michonne laughed. "It's harmless."

Rick only shook his head again. "I'm not going to start something I'm not comfortable continuing in front of my wife."

Michonne held her hands up and appraised Rick quietly. "Fine," she said, backing off for the time being. "I should start flirting with a man that can flirt back. Any suggestions?"

Rick's gaze went up to the ceiling as he considered the question. "Um...There's this man at the precinct named Scott. He's recently divorced – has two kids-"

"No thanks. Next."

"Okay..." Rick scratched at his chin. "There's Heath-"

"Don't like the name. Next."

"Steve..."

"What about Shane?" Michonne asked, interrupting Rick. "The one who introduced himself to me. What's his story?"

"Shane?" Rick shook his head. "Nah...You're not interested in him."

"Why not?" Michonne asked with a smile.

"He's my best friend and the man I care about most in this world but...he's a bit of a womanizer," Rick said, squinting in Michonne's direction.

"Even better," Michonne said with a mischievous smile. "I like a challenge."

A small smile played across Rick's lips and he shook his head again. "Okay..." he said. "It's _your_ heart..."

"So he's a womanizer," Michonne said. "Anything else I should know? Any anger problems? Alcohol problems? Crazy exes?"

"Oh, there's bound to be a crazy ex or two," Rick said with a nod of his head. He squinted at Michonne as if he was about to say something else but didn't continue.

"What?" Michonne asked.

"I don't know," Rick said, glancing away before glancing back. "I just don't think you two fit."

"Why not?"

Rick shrugged his shoulder.

"Tell me," Michonne pushed.

"I don't know..." Rick said again, but he prepped to continue so Michonne waited. "You're too...independent. Self-assured. Shane likes a more...traditional woman..."

"He's controlling?"

"Eeehh," Rick didn't want to say that exactly. "Not exactly..." He tried to think of a better way to explain. "Let me put it this way...You're the kind of woman he'll try to put into a box. And once he realizes that you don't fit into that box, he'll start to pull away. It's just the kind of man he is."

Michonne smiled. "Thanks for the warning, Rick. I really feel like you're looking out for me." She placed her glass of tea on the table. "But...let me ask you a question. The only question that really matters."

Rick nodded, giving her the go-ahead.

Michonne preceded her question with a pause just to make sure Rick would be hanging on her every word. "...Is he good in bed?"

Michonne got the desired effect. A blush rose from Rick's shirt collar to his hairline. "I-I don't-How am I supposed to-" He took a breath to get his sputtering under control. "That's something you're going to have to figure out for yourself," he finished.

He finished off his tea until only the ice was clinking around in the empty glass as Michonne laughed at him.

"Well," Michonne said, as she grew serious again. "I'm not really interested in dating anyone just yet. But I _am_ interested in getting to know your friend Shane a little bit better. He seems like an interesting guy."

"He is," Rick said. "We've been there for each other since middle school. We've only grown closer since joining the police force."

"I guess you would have to," Michonne said. "It's a stressful job. Trust and partnership is everything."

Rick nodded.

Michonne stared at him. She hadn't planned on digging just yet but her curiosity got the best of her. "Has there ever been a time on the job when either one or both of you did something that you felt guilty about later? Something that kept you up at night?"

All traces of relaxation left Rick's face and his head tilted. A pale and guarded expression crossed his features and a sign of weariness could be seen. "That's some question," Rick said. He ran a finger around the rim of the empty glass in his hand. "What makes you ask it?"

"Just curious," Michonne said. Her heart was beating faster. "Have you ever killed anyone?"

Muscles clenched in Rick's jaw as if he was being bombarded with sudden unwanted mental images. He suddenly walked forward and placed his glass on the table. "I should- I should go," he said, only giving Michonne a slight glance.

Michonne wanted to hold him there and make him tell her everything, but he was quickly gone from the room and then the house. She released the breath she had been holding.

His reaction told her everything. That was not the reaction of an innocent man.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Michonne dug through her closet that night and came out with a small t-shirt in her hands. A t-shirt with a golden Mickey Mouse on it. It had been Andre's favorite shirt. Her Andre, who was gone now. Just like Mike.

One day she had been a lover and a mother and the next she wasn't.

Michonne sat down on the edge of her bed, her dreads hanging down to shield her face as tears began to form.

She gripped the small t-shirt tightly and vowed. That soon Rick Grimes would know all of her pain.

She curled up on top of her covers and went to sleep with a piece of her past clutched in her hands.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Rick's hand shook as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He wanted to destroy the images that played behind his eyes. Make it so they didn't exist. So they never did.

He was pacing in his bedroom back and forth. He had gone straight home after leaving Michonne's place. He regretted that his thoughts couldn't be left behind in his footprints.

"Hey, babe?" Lori came into the room and paused when she saw Rick. She had heard him come in from where she had been reading in the kitchen and she had come up to tell him that Carl had gone out to play for a couple of hours. But Rick's expression made her stop short. She knew this expression. It had been a constant for two months a while back. Right after it happened.

All of their troubles melted away in the moment and Lori stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. "Oh, baby," she said, walking to Rick. She gently took his wrist and soon he was embracing her. "I know," she said. "I know. It's not your fault." She circled her arms around his waist and clenched her eyes shut tight.

She hated his job because it took him away from her and Carl. She hated his job because it didn't pay enough. But most of all, she hated his job because of moments like this. When the weight of what he had to do in the name of duty came crashing down on him and tore him up from the inside.

"Do you want me to call Dr. Michaels?" she asked. Doctor Michaels was the therapist in their town assigned to men in the line of duty who went through what Rick had to go through.

"No, no," Rick said. He hugged Lori tighter and buried his face in her hair, becoming grounded by the familiar. "Let me just stay like this for a minute."

"Okay..." Lori whispered. They embraced for a full minute in silence.

Lori hated that it took Rick revisiting such a traumatic experience to bring them to this kind of moment again but after a while, she began to enjoy it. They hadn't simply just enjoyed each other's presence in she didn't know how long. And they hadn't been intimate in weeks.

Lori felt her body begin to respond in the moment and Rick must have felt the same way because he gently swept her hair over her shoulder and began to place soft kisses on her neck.

Lori sighed and craned her neck so that he could have better access. He knew exactly how and where to kiss her to get her to respond.

Rick gradually kissed his way to her lips and the married spouses gently explored each other's bodies as they unclothed and made their way to the bed. They expressed themselves in ways they hadn't since the early years of their marriage.

For the first time in a long while, Lori found herself completely satisfied.

Rick, however, was wrestling with himself.

The moment he entered his wife's warmth, images came to him unbidden. Images of a dark-skinned woman stretched out on the carpet. A long neck, a defined collar bone, a brush of warmth against a cool glass. Soon, Rick's imagination took over. With his eyes closed, he imagined that it was Michonne's body stretched out beneath him. That it was her hand that clawed its way down his back. Her muscled thighs clenched his hips.

Rick groaned and gave all of his passion to the woman beneath him.

It was her lips that whispered his name reverently. He was making this strong, confident woman come undone.

Her full lips opened and breathed his name one more time. Her breath fanning his ear. "Rick..."

Rick's passion left his body and flowed into hers.

When his eyes opened, it was his wife beneath him. It was her scent. Rick released his breath and hugged her tight, feeling more guilty than he did before.

"That was...wonderful..." Lori breathed.

Rick rolled off of her and rubbed his face with his hands. 'What's going on with me?' Rick wondered.

\- We'll find out what happened to Andre later. -


	4. Chapter 4

\- I will be updating _In a Different World_ next. -

 **Chapter Four: It Worked Out For You**

'Policeman's ball. 7:00 PM. Thursday. Bring your favorite policeman.'

Michonne's eyes ran over the flyer posted on the outdoor bulletin board that was posted outside of the King's County local library. The cogs in her brain were turning when she felt someone crash into her.

"Oof! I'm sorry!" the young boy said even as the impact of running into Michonne sent him stumbling backwards.

Michonne turned to stare down at the unintentional assailant. When she saw who it was, she pushed the shades she wore to the top of her head and turned her full body towards him. She wore a pair of belted, black pants that reached her waist and a flowing, satin, blue button-up top that was tucked into the pants cinched at her waist. Her dreadlocks fell down her back in a ponytail. She had a couple feet in height on the boy so she knew that she must make a slightly intimidating image. But the boy's striking blue eyes, so much like his father's, squinted up at her with a self-assured air foreign to most boys his age.

"It's okay," Michonne said. She studied him seriously before holding her hand out to him for a handshake. "Michonne."

The young boys blue eyes went from Michonne's outstretched hand to her face. His chest puffed out and he took her hand. "Carl," he responded.

Michonne smiled as she released his hand. "Would that be Carl Grimes? The sheriff deputy's son?"

Carl's chest expanded a bit further. "Yes, ma'am."

Michonne nodded. "I thought so. You two have the same blue eyes."

"You know my dad?" Carl asked curiously.

"I do," Michonne replied. "He helped me to move in this past week."

"Ahh..." Carl nodded. "That's my dad. He helps people."

"Like a modern day Superman, huh?"

"Nah. My dad's not as cool as Superman," Carl joked.

An honest smile crossed Michonne's face. "Batman then."

"Nah. Batman's cooler than _Superman_."

Michonne's honest smile faded to be replaced with honest shock. "You did not just say that," she said. "You _really_ think Batman is cooler than Superman."

Carl stared up at her. "Yeah," he said. "You don't?"

"No!" Michonne said emphatically.

"Why not?" Carl asked. "Superman is overrated."

"Superman is _classic_."

"Yeah. Classic God moder."

"Uh!"

"And anyway...Batman is classic too," Carl said. "And more inspirational. He doesn't have any powers but he _chooses_ to fight crime. Superman does it because he feels like he has to because it's his 'destiny'."

Michonne was impressed with the kid's logic but that didn't stop her from wanting to put him in his place. For the first time since entering King's County, all thoughts of revenge were gone from her mind. She didn't stop to think about the fact that she was arguing with a kid over fictional characters. She was too busy getting ready to shut him down. "First of all," she said. "Superman having 'too many' powers is better than Batman having none. Batman's only power is unlimited money. Why doesn't he do something more useful with that money like feed the homeless or send more money to orphanages instead of adding new gadgets to his belt and worrying about the new batmobile?"

"Two..." Michonne ticked off the reasons on her fingers as she went. "How old is he really? His age remains inconsistent. Three...I can excuse Superman's 'god moding' as you call it because he's the Man of Steel. What's Batman's excuse? He should have died on many occasions and somehow this 90-year-old man continues to live on in the same shape he was in since he first donned the suit." Carl couldn't stop a smile from crossing his face. He shifted on his feet as he listened. "And four...Capes have not, do not, and _will_ not deflect bullets. Ever. Not even money can buy miracles."

Carl was quiet; Michonne smirked. "Whatever..." he finally said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Neither is as interesting as Deadpool."

Michonne straightened her shoulders, satisfied with her win. "...I agree with you there," she said, glancing back towards the bulletin board. When her eyes fell on the flyer again, she remembered that she actually had a purpose for being in King's County and it didn't involve Superman _or_ Batman. "Weren't you hurrying off to somewhere?" she asked Carl, turning to look at him again.

"Oh yeah!" Carl said with a jolt of remembrance. "I'm supposed to go help Dwayne with his math!" He began to hurry off down the paved street, the slight breeze picking up his hair as he ran. Before he got too far, he turned around. "See you later, Michonne!"

"Bye!"

Michonne watched the young boy run out of view. The moment he was gone Mike appeared.

" _You forgot me for a moment_."

Michonne studied the flyer. "It'll never happen again."

" _No. You should. What happened wasn't anybody's fault but my own. You should move on from me and be happy."_

"Never."

Michonne took the flyer from the bulletin board and walked away, the wind kicking up a notch.

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"You comin' to the policeman's ball tonight, man?" Shane asked Rick as he sat on the man's desk. He peeled off a slice of the orange he held in his hand and ate it as he waited for Rick's response.

"Of course I-" Rick wiped away a droplet of moisture that fell from Shane's snack and onto a pile of some of his police reports. He moved the stack of papers and pushed Shane off of his desk. "Of course I am," Rick said. "Lori loves these things. She makes me take her every year; you know that."

Shane nodded his head.

"You got anybody you're thinkin' about takin' yet?" Rick asked. Shane shrugged a shoulder and hooked a thumb into his belt.

He was about to say something when his eyes trailed to a guest walking into the police office. "I got some kinda idea..." he said softly to Rick as Michonne made her way towards them with the flyer of the upcoming event in her hand.

Rick was surprised to see Michonne coming into the office. He had purposefully been avoiding seeing her for the past week ever since his mind had betrayed him while he had been in bed with his wife. He looked away from her and fiddled with the papers on his desk as she stopped in front of Shane.

A short silence passed between them before Michonne spoke. "Shane, right?"

Shane nodded. "Mm-hmm..." A barely-hidden smirk was on the man's lips; Rick had seen that look a million times before when his friend felt he was about to get his way. Rick shook his head and tried to keep his attention elsewhere as the two people talked.

A lopsided smile lifted Michonne's lips as well. She could read people like a book and Shane was no different. He was smug that she was coming to him first. Michonne lifted the flyer in her hand into his view. "You got a date to this yet? I'm assuming you're going..."

Shane's cocky smile grew cockier. He shifted on his feet and chuckled. "Yeah, I'm going," he said. "And right now I'm a free man."

"Good," Michonne said. "Then you won't mind picking me up at seven?"

"I won't mind that at all." His eyes began to trail down Michonne's form appreciatively.

"Enh!" Michonne placed her finger under his chin and met his eyes warningly. "Work place."

Anticipation grew in Shane's gut. He clasped the hand that touched his chin and gave it a kiss. "I'll see you at seven o'clock tonight," he affirmed. He started off to get back to work but before he left, he took advantage of the fact that he had moved behind Michonne and she could no longer see him to indicate to Rick that he felt like he had just won the jackpot.

Michonne shook her head and smiled. She didn't need to turn around to know what was going on behind her. All men were the same.

Once Shane was gone, Michonne walked over to Rick's desk and trailed her finger along the edge.

Rick, trying to act like he wasn't eavesdropping, coughed uncomfortably and shifted in his seat.

"So..." Michonne said. "I haven't seen you around lately...You didn't even come to the ranch this past Wednesday."

"I've been busy," Rick said shortly, glancing up at her once.

Michonne nodded. "Well, things are finally starting to pick up at my law office. I have two clients." She chuckled. Because two clients was a dismal number.

"Good," Rick said. "Good." He didn't look at her at all.

"I saw your son outside," Michonne continued. "He seems like a good kid."

"He is."

Michonne stared at Rick for a moment. "...Have I done something wrong?" she finally asked.

"No," Rick said, still staring down at his papers and making random markings. "No. Why would you say that?"

"Because you're not looking at me," Michonne said. She gently pulled Rick's papers away from him. His eyes followed the papers and then reluctantly fell on her face. "And I feel like you've been avoiding me all week."

Rick took the papers back and sighed. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "It's not your fault. I'm-" He shook his head. There was no way he could tell her that he was fantasizing about her in bed while he was with his wife and that made him feel guilty so he was avoiding her. "I'm just going through some stuff..."

"Oh...anything I can help with?"

"No. No."

"Okay, well...see you tonight?"

"See you tonight."

Michonne walked away. Whatever was going on with Rick, she had to find a way to get him to not clam up around her that night. Because that didn't fit into her plans at all. It all started tonight...at the policeman's ball.

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Lori and Rick stood in the midst of the hubbub of the policeman's ball. The event was hosted in a rented out restaurant. All of the tables had been pulled except for a long one sitting against one of the far walls where all of the restaurant's best delicacies was displayed.

Everyone dressed up for the ball so there were evening gowns and tuxedos everywhere. Servers weaved in and out of the crowd, dressed from head to toe in black and white.

Lori quite enjoyed the annual policeman's ball. It was one of the few quirks of Rick's job. She got to dress up – she looked particularly beautiful today in a gold-accented gown and her hair swept up into a fashionable bun – and she got to socialize with everyone in town. Because everyone in town usually _did_ turn out for this event. Not much happened in King's County so when something did, it was a big event.

It was also nice to be on the arm of one of King County's most popular heroes. Because Rick Grimes was popular. He was handsome, polite, had saved many a wayward neighbor's kitten, and didn't have a loose reputation like one of the other most handsome police officers of the force.

At that exact moment, Shane Walsh came through the doors of the ballroom and there was a bit of a hush. It wasn't because of Shane being particularly handsome that evening, which he was. It was because the woman on his arm was practically stunning and she was relatively new so interest was piqued.

Everyone knew Michonne had entered town by now, but no one really knew much about her at this point. A few people had introduced themselves, but they all said the same thing. She was sweet, polite, and regal but also came off kind of guarded. And she mostly kept to herself so far. She hadn't reached out to anyone except Rick and apparently...Shane Walsh.

Lori's eyes swept Michonne and she couldn't deny that she felt a little disappointed. With Michonne's entrance, she was no longer the best dressed.

Michonne wore a cream colored gown that bared one shoulder and fell to her feet. It was cinched at the waist to display the other woman's natural curves and her skin stood out beautifully against the light color of the fabric. Michonne's hair was pulled up into a fancy updo and a glittering hair accessory was placed amongst the dreads to complement the dress and to give the overall look a satisfying finish.

Shane looked positively smug.

Lori felt Rick tense beside her and she gave him a questioning look. He gave her a tight smile in return.

When Shane and Michonne spotted them and started to make their way over, Lori faced them with a grin. Now wasn't the time to feel jealous over a dress. She had been wanting to go introduce herself to the new addition to the neighborhood for a while now. Now was as good of a time as any.

"Hey, Shane," Lori said when the two drew close. She held her hand out to Michonne. "Hi. I'm Lori. Rick's wife."

"Hi," Michonne said, taking her hand. "I've heard a lot about you."

Lori looked toward her husband nervously. "Good things, I hope," she joked.

"Of course," Michonne said. "Your husband loves you very much."

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Michonne glanced Rick's way during her pleasantries with Lori enough times to know that he was still going to have the same strange attitude he had earlier in the day with her. He only acknowledged her with a nod and then proceeded to look elsewhere while small talk was exchanged.

"I'm really grateful to Rick for helping me organize my house a week ago," Michonne said, deciding to bring him into the conversation.

But it wasn't very successful.

"It was no problem," Rick said with a tight smile before turning to Shane. "Hey," he said to other man. "I want to talk to you for a little bit about some of the case reports."

"Case reports? Come on, man, we're at a party! Forget work for a minute!"

"Shane-"

Shane sighed. "Fine," he said. He turned to Michonne and gave her a departing kiss on the hand. "I'll be right back."

Michonne watched the two men walk off. 'Well, there goes that,' she thought before turning back to Lori who was trying to engage her in conversation.

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"Man, I have _never_ felt this way about a woman before. I swear to God!" Shane and Rick were over at the refreshments table. The "case report" talk had quickly turned to "Shane gushing over Michonne" talk. The woman Rick had just purposefully tried to get away from. He brought a glass of alcohol to his lips and began to start on his second glass. "I mean...look at her, Rick. Look!"

Rick looked. She was smiling and nodding at something Lori was saying. She looked absolutely gorgeous. Rick hurriedly looked away before his eyes could slide down her body and appreciate more than her smile.

"Everytime she touches me, I just wanna take her out back and unh unh unh unh!" Shane slapped his hands together to coincide with each vocal grunt.

Rick scrunched his brow and shook his head. "Don't- don't do that," he said.

"Don't do what?" Shane asked, turning to look at him curiously. His face broke into a smile. "Don't fuck her? Of course I won't do that, man. She'd prob'ly kick my ass if I tried anything; look-"

"No, don't- don't talk about it like that. Show her a little more respect, man. Come on."

Shane stared at Rick curiously. "I'm just joking, Rick. What's wrong? I always joke like this..."

"I know. I just – I don't wanna hear it."

"...Okay," Shane said, still staring at Rick curiously before he shook his head deciding not to dwell on his friend's strange behavior.

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"Is Carl _here_?" Michonne asked, keeping up her conversation with Lori.

"Oh, no," Lori answered. "He doesn't like these things. He's over at a friend's house."

"Ahh..." Michonne said. "And...I heard there's supposed to be some kind of award's presentation?"

"Yeah. They usually give awards to some of the officers who have provided the best service over the past year. Rick has won 'Most Honorable Officer' four years in a row. We're trying to make it five. I'm sure it will be."

"Oh. Really? Even after the scandal that happened at the beginning of the year?"

"Y- Oh. You know about that?"

"Yeah, well...I heard a bit about it on the news. I didn't really connect it in my mind until a couple of weeks ago. I was thinking Rick looked a little familiar and then it clicked."

"Oh, well...Yeah...that was a hard time for us. But everyone in this town knows Rick and everyone knows he was just trying to do what's best for everyone. He didn't do anything wrong."

"He killed someone..."

A tense silence fell over the two women. Lori's once welcoming stare turned guarded and hard. "A druggie," Lori said in a hard voice. "Rick felt threatened. He trusted his instincts and acted. I can't fault him for that and neither can anyone else."

"The man didn't even have a weapon. How did Rick feel threatened?" Michonne tried to keep her words in control because this wasn't part of her plan, but her heart was beginning to pump angrily in her chest.

Lori squinted suspiciously and she took a step back. "Is- Is that what you're here for?" she asked. "Are you some vigilante attorney trying to build a case against my husband?"

Michonne chortled derisively. "That's not how this works. I can't build a case against your husband. This town exonerated him without questioning or trial because this town sees him as 'Most Honorable Officer'. There's nothing I could do even if I wanted to."

"But you want to..."

Michonne realized that she was walking a fine line. Her plan to get revenge hadn't even begun properly and she was causing Rick's wife to be defensive. Michonne forced herself to release the tension in her body and she smiled. "No," she said. "No, I don't. Your husband has been nothing but nice to me, and I'm not sure if I've met a more upstanding man. You just have to understand how personal this can feel to some of us..." Lori nodded, her eyes still suspicious but the tension leaving her body. "I don't even know why I brought it up," Michonne said. "Excuse me for that."

Lori was saved from forming a reply when the lights dimmed to dark. The awards ceremony was beginning.

Michonne and Lori made their way to the table where Rick and Shane stood.

Michonne placed herself beside Lori. After their little spat, the thought of revenge in her mind was more fresh than ever.

Everyone stared toward the podium placed on the other side of the wall and watched as a small, balding man made some kind of introductory speech. Michonne rolled her eyes when she felt Shane's arm slide around her waist but she didn't say anything.

She made herself aware of everything Lori did. Lori poured herself a drink and sipped from the glass. Then she sat the glass down on the table behind her, to the right. Every couple of minutes, she would reach behind her again to take another sip without taking her eyes off of the podium.

Michonne was also aware of a pie that sat on the table that was not pre-sliced. A knife was sat to the side for the guests to cut themselves a piece.

After waiting for what seemed like forever, the presenter of the awards finally began to actually present awards. And sure enough, Rick was called forward to claim 'Most Honorable Officer'. For the fifth time.

Michonne applauded with the rest of them. Then she reached behind her and took ahold of the knife sitting beside the pie. She gripped the handle and held it slightly aloft, waiting for Lori's predicted movement. And it came.

Lori reached behind her to grab her drink as she had before and she was met with a sharp pain across her forearm. Michonne pressed the knife into her skin quickly and deftly and then deposited the knife on the table before Lori could even turn around to see what had pained her so much.

"Ah!"

"Are you okay?" Michonne asked, turning to Lori with a concerned expression.

"Oh my God." Lori's eyes had fallen to her forearm. There was a gash across it, and blood was beginning to seep from the wound.

"What happened?" Shane asked, craning his head to see what was going on.

"I think she got cut on something," Michonne said.

Lori pressed her hand over the wound. "I'm okay," she said. "It must have been that knife. How did I even-?"

"Come on," Shane said, putting his own drink down and going over to Lori's side. "That looks pretty deep. We gotta get that bandaged up."

"But Rick-"

"I'll let him know what's going on," Michonne assured them.

"Okay," Shane said with a grateful nod. "You hear that?" he asked Lori. "She's got Rick taken care of. Now let's get outta here and get that looked at." Shane looked up at Michonne again. "You'll be okay here by yourself for a while?"

Michonne nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Go on. Take care of her."

Once they were gone, Michonne was satisfied. She turned back towards the front and faced her real target: Rick Grimes.

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"Where is Lori?" Rick asked when he returned.

"She and Shane went to go take care of a small cut she got," Michonne answered.

"A cut?" Rick asked.

"Yeah. She's fine. They should be back in a little bit."

Rick looked towards the door and shifted on his feet as if he wished he could duck out early as well. But he stayed where he was. He poured himself another drink and peered at Michonne.

"You enjoyin' yourself so far?" he asked.

"Yeah," Michonne said. "I mean...enjoying myself as much as a girl can who came to a dance and doesn't even get to dance..."

"Well...Shane should be back soon so..." Rick took another drink.

"Yeah..." A small smile flitted across Michonne's face.

"What are you thinking about?" Rick asked.

"Nothing," Michonne said with a shake of her head. "It's silly."

"No, what is it?" Rick asked.

Michonne wrinkled her nose as she contemplated telling him. "It's so silly."

"But you have to tell me..." Rick said.

"Why?"

"'Cause you already let me in on it with that little smile you had, now you gotta tell me the rest of the story."

Michonne's eyebrows hitched.

"It's something my mom used to say," Rick said with a shrug of his shoulders. "She could always tell when me and my brother were hiding something, and that was unacceptable with my mother so she always made us tell her."

Michonne nodded. "I like it," she said. "It's a nice thing to say." She stood in thought for a moment. "Okay," she said. "How about this...You dance with me. And I tell you what I was thinking about."

"No," Rick said quickly, shaking his head.

"Why?" Michonne asked.

Rick simply said 'no' again and gulped down the rest of his drink.

Michonne felt a very real jolt of rejection. She didn't understand why Rick was suddenly pulling a complete 180 with her. He started off open and welcoming. Now it seemed as if he couldn't push her away hard enough.

Michonne needed him to be interested in her. For her plan.

"What's going on, Rick?" she asked.

"What are you talking about?"

"Why are you acting so cold toward me?"

"I'm not acting cold."

"Well, you're certainly not acting friendly."

"Well..." Rick looked as if he were looking for something to say until he finally gave up. "I'm sorry. I can't. I can't be friendly with you, Michonne."

Rick began to walk off into the crowd and Michonne stared after him, completely confused.


	5. Chapter 5

\- Thanks everyone for the reviews! -

 **Chapter 5: When To Let Someone In...**

Michonne caught up to Rick before he could disappear into the crowd. She took the drink from his hands and sat it on the tray of a passing waiter.

"What are you-?" Rick started to ask.

Michonne cut him off by taking his hands and leading him to the dance floor. "You're going to dance with me," she said.

Rick tried to pull away, but Michonne held onto him. She pressed herself against his chest and put his arms around her waist. "I don't know why you're suddenly trying to avoid me," she said, looking up into his face. "But I'm going to find out."

Rick looked around at all of the people in the room. He felt exposed being this close to Michonne while his wife was gone. Everyone in that room knew him as the honorable and dutiful Rick Grimes, husband to Lori Grimes. If anyone were to look over, he felt like his dishonest thoughts would be on display for all to see. "Let go of me," he growled, low in his throat. No one was paying attention to them, and he wanted to keep it that way.

"I don't think so," Michonne said. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and clasped her hands behind his neck. "Not until you tell me what's going on. You said you don't want to be my friend anymore?"

"It's not that," Rick said with a sigh.

"Then what is it?" Michonne asked.

Rick looked around at the people in the room. "Can we maybe talk somewhere else?" he asked. "Somewhere private?"

Michonne stopped shuffling her feet in time to the music. "Will you actually talk to me and not run off?"

Rick nodded.

"Fine," Michonne said with a shrug of her shoulders. "You lead the way. I'll get us some drinks."

Michonne released Rick and watched as he headed towards the front door, presumably towards the porch which had a nice veranda and a porch swing. Once he disappeared from view, she went back to the refreshments table and retrieved two glasses and poured liquid into both of them. Glancing around quickly to make sure no one was watching, she then pulled a small bag from between her cleavage and peppered one of the glasses with the crushed pills that made up the contents of the bag.

When she made her way outside, she saw Rick sitting on the top step of the porch. It was completely dark outside. Only streetlights and the light seeping from the windows behind them illuminated the area. Michonne couldn't help but to admire the silhouette of Rick's back. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something about him that seemed incomplete.

She walked forward and she could tell when he heard her approaching. He sat straighter turned over his shoulder to glance at her. She held out the drink meant for him and he took it, his fingers brushing hers slightly.

"So what did you mean when you said you didn't want to be my friend anymore?" Michonne asked. She stood to the side and leaned her back against the railing at the side of the stairs, staring down at Rick. "Isn't it your job to make people feel welcome?"

"I didn't mean to make you feel unwelcome," Rick replied.

"You just don't want to be my friend," Michonne pressed.

Rick glanced at her. "It's not that," he said.

"Then what is it?"

Not quite knowing what to tell her, Rick took a swig of his drink. "...I enjoy being your friend," Rick finally said after a moment's pause.

Michonne silently willed him to drink quicker. "Then what's the problem?"

Rick shook his head, giving up on trying to find something to tell her. "It's just something I gotta work out on my own."

"Well, it's nothing I did, is it?"

"No," Rick answered. He took another drink from his glass.

"Good," Michonne said. She walked forward and took a seat beside Rick on the top step. He tensed slightly but didn't move. He finished the rest of his drink off in one gulp.

Michonne smiled, satisfied, and sat her own drink off to the side. "I met your son today," Michonne said.

"Really?" Rick cleared his throat. It felt dry.

"Yeah. He seems like a good kid."

"He is."

"I had a son..."

Rick continued to be preoccupied with the dryness of his throat for a moment, but then Michonne's words sunk in. He turned to her, his brow drawn in curiosity. He didn't know she had a son. He hadn't seen any hint of any kind of family in her house. "You do?" he asked. He blinked his eyes, trying to clear them as they blurred for a second.

"I did," Michonne reiterated.

Rick realized she was speaking in past tense. "What happened?" he asked.

"He died."

Rick's head swam. "Oh my God," he said, feeling saddened for the woman beside him. "I'm so sorry. You don't- You don't have to tell me anything." He held his head as it suddenly felt heavy.

"No, I do," Michonne said. She fixed him with a hard stare. "I'm going to tell you everything."

Rick pressed his eyes together, trying to bring Michonne into focus. He didn't understand why his blurred vision wasn't clearing up but was only getting worse. "Ohh," he groaned. "I think I may have had too much to drink."

"I was away when my son died," Michonne continued. "I was away trying to figure out the truth of his father's death. The man I had been with for five years..."

Rick squinted over at Michonne, still holding his head. 'So she lost a significant other too?' he thought. He sympathized with the woman beside him and tried to continue listening to her story, even as his head felt like it was splitting in two.

"I had started leaving my son with a friend while I _obsessed_ over my partner's death. A friend I shouldn't have left him with. Someone I shouldn't have trusted." She met Rick's eyes. "My son got hit by a car. While under this man's watch. While my son was finding his way outside, this man was inside getting high! He didn't even know that Andre was missing until the ambulance came. The driver of the car had called 911, saying he didn't see him because my Andre was just too small."

Through his blurred vision, Rick could see tears fall from Michonne's eyes. He reached out to her to comfort her, but his hand met nothing but air due to his disorientation.

Michonne continued relentlessly. "There was nothing the doctors could do. He was dead upon arrival to the hospital. I blamed everyone. I blamed Terry, the driver...myself. Until I realized _none_ of it would've happened if only Mike had not been killed."

"He was killed?" Rick asked, his voice a weak whisper as he tried to keep his head from spinning.

"I wouldn't have been out looking for answers. I would have never left Andre with Terry..."

"Andre's your son..."

"Yes...And I'm going to get revenge. For him and Mike."

"Revenge?"

Rick suddenly found himself getting pulled to his feet. "Come on," Michonne's voice said. "You're coming with me."

Disoriented and confused, Rick was led into the darkness.

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Rick stirred awake in the comfort of his bed and against the softness of his pillow. The sheets felt soft and silken against his skin. He released a contented groan and snuggled against Lori's back. "Good morning," he whispered, and he gave her cheek a kiss. When he began to nuzzle his nose into her hair as he sometimes did, he paused. There was something different about it. It felt...different.

He opened his eyes and jumped back with a startled shout.

Instead of being greeted with the long, loose strands of his wife's hair, he was looking at twisted dreads splayed across his pillow.

Wait-

He took notice of the pillows. They weren't his. He looked around further. This wasn't his bed. Or his room. This was Michonne's home. He jumped out of bed and panicked further when he saw that he was naked. He quickly gathered his scattered clothing and began to throw it on.

A groggy Michonne lifted herself to a sitting position and rubbed at her closed eyes. When she opened her eyes to see Rick scrambling around, her mouth fell open. She looked down at herself. "Oh my God," she whispered, taking note of her state of undress.

Rick honestly felt like he was about to burst into tears. There was only one other time when he felt so undone in his life and that was nine months ago. "Do you- do you not remember how we got here either?" he asked, his voice slightly breathy.

"No," Michonne said, looking around for her own clothes. She slid off of the bed with the sheet held to her body and wrapped around her so as to keep her naked body from Rick's view. "I- I- No. We must have drank too much."

"Oh my God." Fully dressed, though sloppily, Rick sank down onto Michonne's bed and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. "Oh my God. What am I going to do? I have to tell my wife."

"I'm so sorry, Rick," Michonne said, putting the right amount of anguish and regret in her voice. "I don't know how this happened."

"It's not your fault..." Rick said. "It's mine. It's my fault...It's my fault."

Michonne finished sliding the strap of last night's dress over her shoulder and she stared at Rick's back. His shoulders were slumped and he looked positively defeated. It was all working out _too_ easily. Much easier than she thought it would. That must be why she was getting no satisfaction from this.

"You don't have to tell your wife," she said. "I'll keep this between us. I won't say anything. It was a mistake."

Rick stood up and looked at Michonne. His eyes were red-rimmed and voice shaky. "No...I have to tell her. It wouldn't be fair to her if I didn't. God...I'm so sorry, Michonne."

Surprised that he was apologizing to her, Michonne simply nodded and watched as Rick turned and left her room then her home. When he left, she went to her nightstand and picked her cellphone up from the surface. Pulling up her photos, she stared down at the picture she took the night before after posing herself and Rick accordingly in bed together. She expected that Rick would tell his wife about the affair he believed he had with her, but just in case he didn't...she was prepared.

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Rick knew that he needed to go and talk to his wife, but he wanted to put it off as long as possible. He needed to try to straighten things out in his own head first. He just had no idea how things had gotten so far. One minute he had been making his speech and going out to the porch just to talk to Michonne, the next he was waking up naked in her bed.

He put his head in his hands.

He was at his desk at work, having somehow making his way there after going back to an empty house to change clothes. He assumed Carl had already gone to school and Lori had gone out grocery shopping – he couldn't help but be slightly relieved. He had no idea how he was going to face her.

"Hey, Rick!"

Rick jerked to attention in surprise when Shane approached his desk with a loud greeting. Leaning back in his chair, Rick fought his sudden onslaught of nerves. Realizing that he was going to have to keep information from his best friend. At least until he talked to his wife.

"Hey, man...what's going on?" Rick asked, avoiding looking at Shane's face.

"Was Lori okay this morning?" Shane asked. "I got her home and bandaged her up, but I had to leave before I could really see how she was. I headed back to the party but you and Michonne were gone too."

Rick flushed. "I-uhh...I- I don't know how she is. I didn't see her this morning."

"Really? Was she in bed when you got back?"

"Yeah. Yeah, she was."

"Well, that's good. At least she got a good night's sleep." He sat down on the corner of Rick's desk. "I'm thinking about heading over to Michonne's office today, see if we can make up for the rest of the date by going on another one. I thought she would wait for me to get back..."

Rick fiddled with a pen on his desk. "Uh-huh..." A swell of guilt built inside of his chest. Not only had he betrayed his wife of ten plus years, but he had also slept with the woman that his best friend was dating. Rick felt like scum.

The regular bustle of the police precinct was suddenly disturbed when an officer threw open the door with sudden news. "There's a disturbance down at the local general store. We got a hold-up. Ralph is injured."

Rick rushed from his desk, instructed Shane and a couple of others to come with him, and then he was out of the door. He was almost relieved to be distracted from his personal issues. He was worried about Ralph though. Ralph was a favorite around the community and the kids would hate it if something were to happen to the jovial older man.

Sirens and police tires of two squad cars squealed to a stop outside of the local general store. Rick and Shane climbed out of their car and the two police officers in the other car did the same. "You two stay here," Rick instructed in a low voice to the other two policeman. It was clear that he and Shane would approach and the other two would act as backup if necessary.

Josh, the policeman who had been off-duty before the incident began, walked up to them in his street clothes and with his gun drawn but at his side. "It's not a robbery," he informed them. "I thought it was when I heard shots inside, but it's Mrs. Shiloh."

"Mrs. Shiloh?" Rick whispered in shock. He and Shane exchanged glances of disbelief. Mrs. Shiloh was fifty-six years old and Ralph's husband.

"I shouted inside and tried to get her to stand down peacefully, but she's determined," Josh continued. "She told me to stay out or she would kill both Ralph and herself."

"Is anyone else inside?" Rick asked.

"No," Josh said. "Thankfully it's a slow day."

"Alright..." Rick said. He made a decision. "I'm going to go closer and try to talk to her. You two stay out here and be ready if there's any trouble."

Shane and Josh nodded their assent.

Rick stalked carefully towards the door of the general store with his gun pointed towards the ground. When he reached the store, he leaned against the wall right between the opened door and the window so that Mrs. Shiloh wouldn't have a sight line on him. Just because the woman was an older lady, he didn't want to make the assumption that she wasn't deadly with a pistol. Anyone was deadly with a pistol.

"Mrs. Shiloh?" he called. "Mrs. Shiloh, don't do anything rash okay? We just want to talk to you!"

"It's too late for talk!" Mrs. Shiloh yelled back, her voice high and filled with emotion. Rick noted that she didn't sound too calm, that meant that it would be harder for him to reason with her. "I've wanted to talk to my husband for _years,_ but it seems I had to go to extreme measures to even get him to shut his mouth and actually listen to me!"

"You want to talk to your husband?" Rick asked, keeping his voice calm and steady. "We can work that out! Why don't you put the gun down. We'll come in and make your husband listen to you. We'll let you talk! How's that?"

"That's bullshit!" Mrs. Shiloh yelled. "He won't listen. He's a deadbeat!"

"Rick?!" Ralph's voice called. "Help me! You gotta help me; she's crazy!"

"Shut up!" Another gunshot was fired. Rick was startled and some of the other men moved to come forward but he held his hand out, telling them to wait.

"Mrs. Shiloh?" he shouted. "Ralph?"

"I haven't shot the bastard yet!" Mrs. Shiloh called back. Ralph's whimpers could be heard from inside.

Rick released a breath of relief. "Good! That's good, Mrs. Shiloh!" he called. "Let's just all...calm down. And why don't you come out so we can talk this over?"

There was a moment of silence. "...You'll arrest me if I come out," Mrs. Shiloh finally said.

"That's not true," Rick said. "I'll talk to you. You can tell me what Ralph did that was so bad." There was silence again. "You haven't done anything that can't be fixed, Mrs. Shiloh," Rick continued, feeling like he was getting somewhere. "Please don't do anything you'll regret."

"...You promise you won't arrest me?"

"I'm just gonna talk to you," Rick said. "Just...send Ralph out. So that we can know he's safe."

There was a long moment of silence wherein Rick waited with bated breath until he heard shuffling inside. "Back up from the door," Mrs. Shiloh instructed.

Rick looked around at his fellow officers. Shane gave him a nod, his own gun drawn and pointing to the ground. Rick backed away from the door and soon Ralph was shuffled forward slowly with his hands up. He crossed the threshold with Mrs. Shiloh leading him out, her gun pushed against his back. "Put your guns down," Mrs. Shiloh instructed.

Rick glanced around at his fellow officers again. "That's not gonna happen, Mrs. Shiloh," he said.

"Do it or I'll shoot him."

Rick's heart was pounding with adrenaline. "I wouldn't advise you doing that, Mrs. Shiloh. There are four of us and one of you."

"Are you going to shoot me?" Her voice was fearful.

"Not if you let Ralph go unharmed."

There was a long moment of tense silence and then Mrs. Shiloh gave Ralph a shove in the back with the end of her gun. He took that as a signal to go running. And he did. He ran to to the two police officers off to the side and hid behind them.

The only thing that kept Rick and Shane from running forward to reprimand Mrs. Shiloh in that moment was the gun in her hand. They were afraid that she would harm someone else or herself. "Put the gun down, Mrs. Shiloh," Rick instructed.

Tears in her eyes, Mrs. Shiloh stood with the gun pointed half-heartedly into the air as if she weren't sure what she was doing with it anymore. "He...he cheated on me," Mrs. Shiloh said.

Rick's mind flashed back to waking up in Michonne's bed.

"Thirty-five years of marriage and he cheated on me with some waitress half his age."

Rick's hands began to sweat, but he tried to stay concentrated on the matter at hand. "I'm sorry about that, Mrs. Shiloh," he said. "Put the gun down and we'll try to help you. We're not your enemies."

"Don't you think it's criminal for a man to cheat on his wife?" Mrs. Shiloh asked, her eyes pleading. "To break his bond? Shouldn't you be arresting _him_?"

Rick breathed heavily. His vows and promises to Lori flashing in his mind.

"Rick?" Shane called. Noticing that something was wrong.

Rick didn't respond.

Shane glanced between Rick and Mrs. Shiloh for a moment and then he began to inch forward. He placed his hand gingerly on the handcuffs at his side. "Mrs. Shiloh?" he called gently. "Why don't you just put the gun down and we'll take you in quietly without any trouble, hmm?"

"Take me in? You said you wouldn't arrest me..."

"Mrs. Shiloh-"

Mrs. Shiloh raised her gun quickly. Rick snapped back into the moment. "Mrs. Shiloh," he called, raising his hand.

"You're liars," Mrs. Shiloh said, tears falling down her cheeks. Her gun moved between Shane and Rick. "You're all liars."

A gunshot rang out loudly and suddenly. Rick felt a searing pain and then he was on the ground.

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Michonne, dressed in stylish jeans and a fashionable blue button-down shirt and with her hair pulled into a ponytail, was on her way to get lunch after yet another day of no clients when she heard the sirens. Curious, she followed the sound for a couple of blocks and turned the corner to see an ambulance and squad cars.

As officers tried to control the scene, she walked close enough to see what was going on. First confusion hit her when she saw a distraught Lori holding a crying Carl against her chest and then shock came when she saw a wounded and unconscious Rick being rolled by on a stretcher and loaded into the back of an ambulance.

She stood frozen as Lori rushed to the ambulance with Carl and began to climb inside.

"I'm sorry," one of the EMTs said as he stopped Lori from climbing inside. "We can only take one family member at this time."

Lori looked searched around with wide eyes until her eyes landed on Michonne. Before Michonne knew it, Carl was being pushed against her stomach as a frantic Lori spoke at her. "Can you take care of my son? Please. Please. I have to go. I have to go." She leaned down and kissed Carl on the forehead. "I'll call for you soon and let you know everything sweetheart. I promise."

"Sure," Michonne replied absentmindedly to the the request. She was still caught up in the suddenness of everything. "Sure."

"Mom," Carl cried. "Mom."

"I'll be back, sweetheart. I promise." She looked at Michonne again. "Take care of him. I'll be back." Then she rushed off and climbed into the ambulance. It was gone within minutes.

Michonne was still making sense of everything in her head when Carl ran off, crying, down the street.

"Shit," Michonne cursed before she gave chase.

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\- I know Michonne is a piece of work in this one. Stay with me! We still don't know what exactly happened 9 months ago. I'm enjoying writing Bad Michonne in this one and Bad Rick in my other fic. I hope you guys are enjoying it as well. Please review and let me know if you love it or hate it. -


	6. Chapter 6

\- Sorry for the wait on this one guys. I'm going to reply to a few reviews.

 **RichonneSlag** : Thanks for always reviewing. I'm glad you're enjoying the dubious Michonne. We all want to root for them, but is it possible? Maybe. Maybe not. It's difficult to write Michonne this way, but...as AL said of Season 5 of The Walking Dead. "It gets strange, but we'll get through it together."

 **simple1234:** Hmm...Will she come around? We'll have to see. Carl is definitely an interesting factor.

 **Guestz:** I think I answered most of your questions in this coming chapter. I hope you like it!

 **Laynay:** Glad to know you're hooked and in it for the long haul!

 **focusedOnProsperity:** Thank you for rooting for Michonne's revenge. Glad to know she has your support (if Rick and Shane are guilty). Haha. It's definitely a heavy thing, what she suspects happened.

 **ttgranger:** This _is_ messy. And I definitely agree that it has just been a series of unfortunate events. Maybe they can all come through it unscathed...maybe it's impossible...

 **themadhatter:** Carchonne ftw!

 **Tixxy:** Yes, yes! Muahahahaha!

 **severelybabykryptonite:** Lol! I'm just glad it was clear that they didn't really have sex. I was wondering if I would get questions about that. But yes, thank you for liking bad Michonne.

 **kimyso:** I know, I know. TV!Michonne handles problems in a much different way than the Michonne I have here. But I had to make her this way for the story I want to tell. Hopefully enough canon characterization is still there that you want to stick with the story. *Hugs* We'll get through it.

 **Midnights-AM-Child:** Glad to see you're still with me!

 **blacklitchick:** Hmm...Yes, the mysterious Mike/Rick/Shane incident. We'll be getting to that soon.

Thanks everyone for the reviews! -

Chapter 6: What's the Answer?

Michonne caught up with Carl on the outskirts of the woods near the community. She didn't say anything though. She simply followed him as he hacked his way through the trees and bushes with his hands and stomped a path along the ground. She was following behind him so she couldn't see his face, but she heard intermittent sniffles coming from him.

She swiped away small twigs as she followed behind him.

She didn't say anything to him and he didn't acknowledge her. He simply found a fallen log in a clearing, took a seat and began to scrape his feet against the ground, disturbing the leaves and dirt that had fallen there. Michonne took a seat at the other end of the log and began to twirl a stray pine needle between her fingers.

It was surprisingly quiet in the forest. No birds chittering. No twigs snapping as small animals made their way over the forest floor. Not even a wayward wind blew through the leaves to give them a gentle rustle.

In the silence, Michonne allowed her own thoughts to wander to Rick. But she was quickly pulled from her thoughts when Carl spoke. And she was grateful for it. Because thinking about the wounded Rick made her feel a certain discomfort that she didn't want to dwell on.

"...I'll be okay if he dies," Carl had said.

Michonne glanced over at him as he continued to play with the debris of the forest floor with his feet. There were no longer tears forming in his eyes.

"You think so?" Michonne asked.

Carl turned to look at Michonne for the first time that day. "You don't think I could?" he asked, his brow furrowed defensively. His voice challenging.

Michonne shrugged her shoulders. "I think you can do anything you put your mind to doing."

Unsatisfied with her reasoned response, Carl kicked at the dirt with more aggression. He had wanted her to say something stupid like all adults usually did so that he could lash out at her more.

Michonne glanced at Carl's tensed body. He was just a little boy trying to stay strong in the face of what could possibly be the most horrible incident of his life. "... _I_ lost someone from a gunshot wound," she found herself saying.

Carl turned to her quickly with what seemed to be hope sparkling in his eyes. "And _you're_ okay!" he surmised.

"Well, I'm still breathing," Michonne said. "I still go through every day. Talk to people when they talk to me. Smile when I need to. But I can't really say that I'm okay..."

The hope fell from Carl's eyes. "Well, that's because you didn't put your mind to it. Right?"

"...I guess you could say that," Michonne said. "I put my mind to other things."

"Like what?" Carl asked curiously, hoping to earn a distraction from his own imaginings.

"Making other people hurt like I was hurting." Michonne met Carl's eyes, expecting him to show wariness now or even fear. But she only saw understanding reflected back at her. An understanding she hadn't been expecting to get from an eleven-year-old child. "Sometimes I think that I don't want to be okay," Michonne found herself confessing. "I want to hurt. As long as I hurt, I know that there was once something I cared about."

Carl nodded and then turned back to kick at the dirt. "I'm sorry you lost someone..." he mumbled.

"...Do you think I'm going to lose my dad?"

Michonne took a deep breath. "If Batman can survive being stabbed through the heart and live decades without aging a day, then I'm sure your dad can survive this."

"Batman's not real," Carl said with a scoff.

"Without having any powers, Batman decided to put on a suit and try to fight crime the best he could. Batman is the most real superhero there is."

Carl turned over his shoulder to look at her. "...So, you admit that Batman is better than Superman?" he asked.

Michonne held up a finger. "For today _only_ ," she stressed. "I'll concede. If you ask me tomorrow, I'll say this conversation never happened." A small smile broke out over Michonne's lips and she was more pleased than she'd ever want to admit when she received a small smile in return.

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When Carl and Michonne came from the woods, the sun was beginning to set. She figured someone would be looking for him by now to update him on his father's condition. And she was right. They had barely made it up the street when a winded Shane came running toward them, still in uniform.

"Carl, man, I've been looking all over for you. Your mama wants me to bring you to the hospital right now. Come on." As he took Carl by the shoulder to lead him off, he nodded at Michonne. "Thanks for watching him." He began to walk away.

"Hey," Michonne called, stopping him. "How is he?"

"He's stable," Shane said. "The doctors say she didn't hit anything vital, thank God, but we have to wait 'till he wakes up to know anything further."

Michonne nodded.

"Man." Shane shook his head. "I just- I feel like I shouldn't've let him come wit' us today. He was off ever since he came into work this mornin'. Like somethin' was on his mind. Then he just froze in the line o' duty. That ain't never happened before." He blew out a breath and glanced at Michonne again. "I'll keep you updated. See you later."

Michonne watched him walk off with Carl - who waved a solemn goodbye to her; she waved back – and she couldn't help to consider that the thing that caused Rick distraction and got him shot. Was her. And what she had done the night before.

Michonne started on her trek down the street toward the house and folded her arms across her chest to combat the chill that seemed to pick up in the air on a night that was contradictorally still.

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In her pajamas, Michonne sat on her couch with a bowl of popcorn in her lap and she tried to concentrate on the thriller that flashed across her television screen. But other thoughts wouldn't leave her in peace.

She didn't even turn her head when Mike appeared to take a seat beside her.

 _Was it worth it?_ Mike asked.

"Was what worth it?" Michonne placed another kernel of popcorn on her tongue and turned the volume up slightly higher.

 _Rick got shot because of you. He may be dead. It seems you got the revenge you wanted. Was it worth it?_

"Him getting shot wasn't part of my plan," Michonne defended, glancing at Mike. She hurriedly glanced away when she was greeted by his all-too-real form. She knew he couldn't be real. "I don't want him dead. I just want to tear his family apart. Like he did mine."

 _Ah, I see. So it isn't good enough to just hurt Rick. You want to hurt other people in the process. What have these other people ever done to you? What has Lori done?_

 _...What has Carl done?_

In a flash of anger, Michonne threw the television remote at Mike's head. It went crashing against her far wall and falling to the ground in broken pieces.

Michonne held back a cry of pain. Frightened at herself and what she had just done. She was really starting to fear that she was losing her mind. She quickly picked up her cell phone with a shaking hand and dialed her friend's number. The call was answered on the second ring and Michonne felt immense relief.

"Andrea. Can you come? I need you here."

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Rick opened his eyes and he felt pain in his entire body and everything felt heavy as if he was being pressed into the bed he was lying on by one of those ten-ton anvils you saw in the classic cartoons. He definitely couldn't move. Or, it took effort at least.

"L-Lori," he rasped. His throat was dry and scratchy.

He didn't quite know where he was and the events leading up to whatever was happening now were quite fuzzy, but he knew he needed Lori to be there. And he was blessed with relief when his whisper brought a concerned but hopeful looking Lori into his view. Her eyes were red as if she had been crying and her hair was hanging past her shoulders in waves.

"Rick," she said, reaching out to stroke his face gingerly. "Rick. You're awake."

Rick took her hand in his as Lori called out for a nurse. It was then that Rick pinpointed exactly where he was. He was in the hospital. The beep and whirring of machines became noticeable sounds and he found that he was hooked up to an IV.

"What happened?" he asked just as the moments leading up to him arriving there began to flood into his brain.

Shane was the next person to rush into his vision along with Carl and Rick allowed everyone to fuss over him while the nurse checked his vitals and he went through the memories of the day before.

He had been shot.

The dull pain in his shoulder was indication enough of that. They had dug the bullet out and had currently put him in a sling. He sat up in the bed as the nurse raised it; he was trying desperately to find comfort in an uncomfortable situation.

"The surgeon who worked on you was good; they said you'd only have a small scar," Lori was saying.

"How you feelin' man?" Shane kept asking repeatedly, in some form or another.

Rick nodded. "I'm fine," he said. "Fine." Save for the scratchiness in his throat. "Can I have some water?"

Lori hurried off to get him some without further prodding. She returned from the bathroom in short notice with a paper cup full of tap water. Rick drank it thankfully.

"We have Mrs. Shiloh in the holding cell right now; she's going to be tried for-"

"Can we _please_ not talk about Mrs. Shiloh or work right now. _Please_!" Lori said, cutting Shane off.

Shane dipped his head in apology and held his hands up. The subject of work was off the table.

Rick held Lori's hand tighter in his own. Everything was clear in his mind now. Everything.

He had betrayed the woman he loved.

Rick gripped Lori's hand as she and Shane continued to try to figure out the best course of action. Rick silently watched them, their words fading in and out of his understanding. He wished that he could've woken up and realized that waking up with Michonne had all been a dream. He wished that he could've woken up and forgotten that that had even happened. He wished that he had never met Michonne Rimoy.

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Michonne threw her arms around Andrea's shoulders when the other woman showed up on her doorstep with carry-on baggage and a travel bag.

"Man, this is a shithole of a town!" Andrea said in her same old Andrea fashion as she stepped through the door of Michonne's home. Michonne smiled, glad that she had called her when she did. "How do you stand it?"

"A woman's gotta do what a woman's gotta do," Michonne said, pulling Andrea's luggage in and beginning to stow it away into a storage closet right off to the side of the door.

"And what is it that you have to do here?" Andrea asked, brushing Michonne's dreads back over her shoulder when the ponytail she had them in fell forward, constricting her view of her friend's face. "You never really told me that."

Andrea knew the story about Mike and Andre and she knew the connection it had with this town and a sheriff's deputy named Rick but that was _all_ she knew. Michonne wouldn't tell her more than that. And that had made Andrea more wary than anything. They shared everything.

When Michonne told Andrea she was moving here but wouldn't go into details about why, Andrea figured it was respectful to let her friend work out whatever hang-ups she had in her own way and then eventually she'd get past it. But when Michonne called her last night, with something akin to panic in her voice, Andrea figured it was time she started to ask a few more questions.

Michonne chortled, amused that Andrea was getting right to the meat of it all. "Will you let me put your bags away first?" Michonne asked. "Maybe fix you some dinner?"

"I already ate," Andrea said.

"Well, I'm going to make you something anyway."

Michonne managed to hold Andrea's interrogation off until after dinner was prepared and served but once the delicious pasta had been finished off - Andrea pushed the dish aside, crossed her elbows on the table, leaned in, and asked "So what's the deal? Why are you here?"

Michonne wiped her mouth with a napkin and adjusted herself in her seat.

She was resistant to telling Andrea anything that would make the other woman see her in a negative light. Andrea was the closest friend that Michonne had. Not only that – they were colleagues. It was hard to make friends in such a cutthroat business but Andrea and Michonne had gone to college together, graduated together, and been hired together. They were a team. What would Andrea think if half of her team had gone rogue to exact revenge? Or had gone insane and saw her dead boyfriend every night?

Michonne was starting to wonder if it had been the best idea to call Andrea there in the first place. She had needed a friend in the moment, but now she wasn't so sure it had been the best call.

"How long are you staying?" Michonne asked, obviously putting off the question Andrea had asked.

"You answer a question, I answer a question," Andrea rebutted. "Why are you here?"

Michonne tilted her head, trying to come up with the best response to the question. One that didn't make her seem unstable.

Andrea narrowed her eyes, knowing her friend well enough to know that she was concocting a well thought-out response. One that usually left some pivotal or important information out. "You came here to meet that cop, didn't you?" Andrea guessed, not waiting for Michonne.

Michonne sighed, knowing it was best not to lie. She glanced at the table and then met Andrea's eyes. "Yes," she responded shortly.

Andrea released her own sigh and sat back in her seat. "Why?" she asked.

Michonne shrugged. "Just...to meet him I guess. To get a feel for him." That wasn't a _whole_ lie.

"And then what?"

"Wait. Wasn't this supposed to be 'you answer a question; I answer a question'? How long are you staying?"

"A few days. And then what?"

"What do you mean 'and then what?'" Michonne asked, her frustration growing because she felt cornered. "I just wanted to meet him!"

"So you _moved_ here? Why'd you call me?" Andrea was relentless.

"I moved here because I need time away from the city. And this was as good a place as any."

"Really? Shithole, Georgia?"

"Yes, really."

"So why'd you call me?"

Michonne was _not_ about to tell Andrea she was seeing her dead boyfriend. She stayed silent and arched a defiant eyebrow.

"So you say you wanted to meet this cop," Andrea said, moving on from the other question. "Did you?"

"Yep."

"And?"

Michonne shrugged.

"What's that-?" Andrea mimicked her. "What's that mean?"

"It means I don't know. I don't know how I feel about meeting him."

"Is he nice?"

"He pretends to be."

"So he's fake."

"Doesn't seem to be..."

"Is he an asshole?"

"Of course he is. He shot Mike."

Andrea stared at Michonne for a moment. "Hm," she said, her arms folded across her chest.

"You _do_ agree with me, don't you?" Michonne asked challengingly.

"Of course. Yeah," Andrea said. "He shot Mike; he's an asshole. He's a murderer; he's an asshole. Murderer equals asshole. Yes."

Michonne nodded, satisfied. "And it's kind of ironic now."

"What is?"

Michonne fiddled with the napkin in front of her. "Rick. The cop. He's been shot."

Andrea sat forward in her seat, completely shocked. "You shot him?!"

"No!" Michonne said, looking at her friend with incredulous shock. "No, I didn't shoot him; what kind of person do you think I am?!"

"The kind that gets secretive and runs off to a shithole town!" Andrea responded. But she settled back into her seat, relieved to hear that her friend hadn't killed someone. "Well...how do you feel about it?" Andrea asked gently. "Do you want him to die?"

Michonne rolled her eyes and began to gather the dishes from the table.

"I don't know what I want..." she said, going into the kitchen.

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Rick held onto Lori's hand and stared at her with sorrow in his eyes.

"Rick, baby, what's wrong?" Lori asked, moving forward in the chair she had taken root in beside Rick's bed. She had noticed him staring at her strangely ever since he woke up. "Are you in pain anywhere?"

"No," Rick choked out. "No." He quickly blinked away his expression and stared forward.

"Are you sure?" Lori asked with concern. "'Cause I can get the nurse to give you more painkillers."

Rick shook his head. "No." His eyes flitted around the room. "Wh- where's Shane?"

"He took Carl home," Lori responded. "The poor boy's been worried sick."

Rick closed his eyes and sighed. He hated that he had put himself into a position where his family had to worry about him. But what was even more straining for Rick was the fact that he was left alone with his wife. His secret stretched between them like a long, taut rubber band.

He clenched her hand harder.

Lori's brow furrowed with worry. It was clear that he was in pain.

"I'm gonna go get you some more painkillers," she said, extracting her hand from his.

"No!" Rick said, stretching his hand out to her. "No. Come- Can you come here for a second?"

Lori went back to Rick's side with a questioning expression on her face. Rick took her hand, his heart pounding hard and he gave a deep sigh.

"What is it?" Lori asked again.

Rick didn't want to tell her the truth. He found a million reasons in that one moment of silence _not_ to tell the truth. Since their marriage was already in a rocky period, he didn't know if they could make it through this betrayal. And it would be his fault. His family falling apart would be his fault. He released a shaky breath.

Lori placed her other hand on Rick's so that both of her hands were lightly grasping his on the bed. "Rick, you're scaring me."

But there was something deeper inside of him that was telling him that they couldn't survive this if it was kept secret. It would weigh on him every day and it would become a bigger and bigger thing between them. "I..." Lori peered at him with worried, brown eyes. He glanced at her and gathered courage. "Lori, you know I love you," he said, sitting up straighter and trying to connect with her.

Lori nodded. "Of course." If she was scared before, she was literally shaking now.

"I would never purposefully do anything to hurt you...or our family..."

Lori nodded again, tears finding their way to her eyes before she even knew what the story was. "Rick, what is it?" she asked one more time. "You're scaring the shit out of me."

"The other night..." He squeezed her fingers. "At the policeman's ball...I- I had a little too much to drink. I mean, I guess that must've been it; I don't know...I've never blacked out like that before..."

"What are you talking about?"

"At the policeman's ball...I had too much to drink. And Michonne was there with me..."

Lori was still staring at him curiously, not knowing where he was going with this. But her heart picked up speed. She didn't like the sound of his voice or his downcast eyes. "Uh huh?"

"She must've had a lot to drink too...Because it's all a blur from there. Neither one of us remembers anything..."

"What are you saying?" Lori's mind was starting to jump to conclusions now.

"We...uhh..." He rubbed his free hand across his forehead to straighten the creases forming in his brow. "I don't know how, but uh...I-I woke up in her bed. We were- we were naked..."

He glanced up to meet Lori's eyes, his expression a mix of fear and worry.

Lori simply stared back at him for a few torturous seconds. No anger or pain showed on her surface. But that was only because she had been impacted so deeply. Shock damage had pierced her to the core and it was slowly radiating outward. A lone tear fell from Lori's eye. "You...You cheated on me?" she asked, the words barely forming in the atmosphere.

"Lori, I-" Rick shook his head and tried to hold her hand tighter, tried to keep her there, but Lori pulled away from him. She took a few stumbling steps backward. "I- I need to go..."

"Lori, please. Lori, please wait."

"No. I need to go. I need to- to think." She grabbed her jacket and purse from a nearby chair and began to leave the room. "Don't follow me," she said, seeing Rick start to pull the IV out of his arm. "I need time. I gotta think. Just- Oh God..." And then she was gone, leaving Rick alone there in the bed.

"Lori...please..." Rick moaned. A few unnoticed tears fell from his eyes. "PLEASE!"

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It was the third day of Rick's hospital stay and Michonne arrived at his hospital room with a single flower in her hands. She had wrestled back and forth with coming here, but Andrea had finally convinced her to do so, saying she obviously still had some things to work out and that "seeing the bastard in a sick bed will break you free of whatever hold has you here and you can come back home with me." Those had been Andrea's words.

Michonne also couldn't fight the feeling of guilt that worked its way into her body and settled itself deeper every day. She figured if she saw Rick and his annoying, steely blue eyes, she'd be able to snap herself out of it and continue to wish for his utter destruction.

She stepped through the door with the flower and her eyes went to Rick immediately. He sat up straighter as if he had been waiting for her to come but then when recognization settled on his face, his shoulders slumped with disappointment. It wasn't her he had been waiting for. And Michonne felt an extra wave of guilt upon seeing his reddened eyes and thin-looking face.

"I didn't know what to bring you with my visit," Michonne said. "I don't think I know you well enough for a sappy 'get well' card and I didn't know if a bouquet of flowers would be too emasculating for you...So I brought you one." She shrugged. "Who needs flowers anyway when they're in the hospital, right?" Michonne asked. "I never really got that."

Michonne walked closer. She wore a blue, form-fitting business dress and her hair was pulled up into a becoming ponytail. She was just as beautiful as always. She laid the flower down on the small table beside him and then turned to look at him.

"It's fake," she said. "So it'll never die."

Rick glanced over at the fake, blue flower lying on the table and sighed. He really didn't think he was up to visitors today. Especially not Michonne. He only wanted one visitor right now and that was his wife. "Thank you," he said. "You have to excuse me, but I don't feel much like havin' a visitor right now..."

"Okay," Michonne said. "No problem. I just wanted to check on you. See how you are..."

"I'm fine..." Rick said.

"Okay..." Michonne said.

She slowly walked away, back towards the door. She felt as if there was something more she needed to say.

Rick wished she would hurry and go.

When she reached the door, she found the words she had been looking for. "Thank you," she said, over her shoulder.

"For what?" Rick asked.

"For not dying."

She left the room, the hospital, and made her way out to the parking lot. She was lost in her thoughts, her hands pushed into the pockets of the dress she wore when someone stepping in front of her made her stop short. Michonne barely had time to register Lori's face before she felt a hard slap against her cheek.

A gasp and a cry of "Mom!" let Michonne know that Carl was there as well.

"How _dare_ you!" Lori seethed vehemently.

She then took Carl's hand and led him past Michonne, who was still suffering from the sting of the slap. Michonne placed her hand to her cheek as they disappeared inside the hospital and she knew Rick must have told his wife the news. Just as she thought he would.

 _Well...it seems like everything's falling into place just like you planned._

Michonne put her hands back in her pockets and straightened her shoulders. "Get the hell away from me," she said to the taunting Mike. And then she made her way across the parking lot and to her vehicle.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: If It Feels Easy, Don't Do It**

Rick gritted his teeth against the pain in his shoulder as he followed Lori into their home with Carl trailing quietly behind them before he dismissed himself and made his way upstairs after getting inside. Rick closed the door gently behind himself and glanced at Lori while she put his hospital bag away in the closet.

They hadn't spoken on the car ride back and during the last few days of Rick's hospital stay, Lori had only graced him with routine questions - "How are you?" "Feeling okay today?" "Do you need me to call the nurse?" - and gave him forced smiles for Carl's sake.

Rick considered it a positive that she even continued to come check up on him, but her attitude towards him didn't really give him hope that she was on the road to forgiving him anytime soon. And he didn't blame her.

"How long do you have off?" Lori asked, crouching down where she had placed his bag on the closet floor and retrieving his clothes from inside. She wasn't looking at him.

"Uhh...I was told until I heal..." Rick said. "And that'll take about three months...At least that's what they told us at the hospital..."

Lori nodded as she began to separate his worn clothes into the hamper.

An unbearable silence hung between them.

"Lori..."

"Not now, Rick."

Rick watched Lori finish putting his clothes away and then leave the room. She didn't come back.

Rick made his way further into the living room and stood still helplessly. He wanted to follow Lori into their room and talk this out but he also knew that she needed time. He wished someone would come and tell him what the best course of action would be in this moment because he felt like his world was falling apart.

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Michonne sat on her couch in sweat pants and a t-shirt, staring at the photo on her phone. Some days she forced herself not to think about the son she had lost but other days she felt the need to bury herself in the memories. It hurt just as much as it temporarily salved the wounds in her heart.

Today she had been going through her photos and came across one that showed a curious-looking Andre squinting against the flash of the camera on her phone. She smiled as she remembered him trying to take it from her afterwards for inspection.

Andrea paused in the doorway with her arms folded and looked in on Michonne. "You okay?" she asked, dressed in her own loose, off-the-shoulder t-shirt and sweat pants.

Michonne looked up from her phone and turned the screen off, grateful for Andrea's distraction from her descent into a well of emotion. "Yeah," she said. She looked Andrea up and down and then looked at herself. "Wow." Her voice belayed an attempt at brightness even though it was heavy with sadness. "There's not much to do here so we're both using our time off to just sit around the house." She gestured weakly at her blonde friend. "You've only been here for a week and you're already letting yourself go."

A smile crossed Andrea's face. She could tell that Michonne was talking to distract herself from whatever heavy thoughts were plaguing her mind. "I have an idea," she said. "Why don't we go to that lake I saw when I was driving up and we can have ourselves a picnic? Soak up some of the sun and get some fresh air."

Michonne mustered a small smile. Fresh air and sun sounded like fine distractions on this day off.

It's too bad that it wasn't the day for such things.

Thunder clapped and rain poured down just as the two women pulled up to the lake in Michonne's car. "Great," Michonne sighed, putting the car in park. "I told you it was going to rain."

"Yeah, you told me when we were already halfway out!" Andrea argued. "It was only fair to see if we could come out and see if we could at least get an hour in!" The two women were now dressed in loose-fitting clothing with bathing suits on underneath.

Michonne huffed another frustrated breath and fell back against her seat. "Well, we came out for nothing. What are we going to do now?"

Andrea leaned back in her own seat, disappointed that things didn't work out. For a moment, it seemed as if she could cheer Michonne up. She flipped back the lid of the wicker basket they had brought with them and peered at some of the contents inside. "We could still eat," she said. "We've at least got a _view_ of the lake." She peered at the gray sky and water beyond the rain-streaked windshield. "Sort of."

Feeling a gnaw of hunger in her stomach, Michonne didn't feel the need to argue. "Fine," she said.

The two women unbuckled their seatbelts and settled in to eat sandwiches and crackers in the car as rain came down around them. They split the two bottles of water they had brought between themselves and began to eat.

"You never told me how your visit to the hospital went," Andrea mentioned carefully as she chewed a bite of her chicken sandwich. "Did you see him?" She glanced at her friend, wondering how she would take the topic. The past couple of times she had tried to bring up the small-town cop, Michonne grew noticeably stiff and only gave clipped answers. It seemed that hadn't changed.

Michonne continued to eat but her shoulders grew tense. "I saw him," she answered. She didn't offer anything more.

The bag of plain potato chips sitting between the two women rustled as Andrea stuck her hand inside to grab a few. "...How was it?" she pushed gently, before placing the salty snack on her tongue.

An array of crumbs on Michonne's lap took up her attention for a moment and she brushed them away, filing away in her mind that she would need to go and get her car vacuumed after this. She shrugged in response to Andrea's question. "It was okay. He wasn't dead or even close to it. He'll be fine. He was only clipped in the shoulder."

Andrea studied Michonne's face from the side. "You sound okay with that," she said. She was a bit relieved about that observation. For a while there, she had been wondering if Michonne had come to this small town to do something she would really regret.

Michonne's fingers played with the wrapper surrounding her sandwich. The crinkling of the foil is the only sound that filled the car for a moment. "I thought of his son when I saw him," Michonne admitted. "I was happy that he was alive for his son."

Andrea nodded but she stayed quiet. She didn't want to derail the conversation since this was the first time Michonne was talking about how she felt in regards to the small-town sheriff's deputy.

"But I'm still _so_ angry," Michonne said with a shake of her head. "I don't want him dead but...it's not fair that he can go through this unscathed when people's lives were ruined from what he did."

"When _your_ life was ruined."

"And Mike's. And Andre's." Michonne found it difficult to even voice Andre's name.

Andrea sighed. She hated seeing her friend in pain. "Michonne, can I say something?"

Michonne looked towards Andrea, granting her permission.

Andrea placed her sandwich down on a napkin in her lap and brushed her hands clean of stray crumbs. She didn't want to offend her friend with what she needed to say, but she had to say it. "To be fair, we don't know all the details of what happened that day. What if there was some unexplained detail that wasn't reported? What if there's some huge element that was glossed over or that we're overlooking? The news reports weren't very specific."

"You mean, what if it was Mike's fault," Michonne said. Her teeth clenched shut.

"No," Andrea said with a shake of her head. "That's not what I mean."

"Mike could be careless sometimes and he could even be a screw-up but he wasn't dumb enough to pull anything with a cop."

"Mich, I didn't mean-"

"It's obvious that he shouldn't have been where he was in the first place, but I _know_ that his death wasn't warranted."

"And I would never say it was," Andrea said. She reached over to place her hand over Michonne's. To bring her back to the present. The two women's eyes met. "I'm not saying that," Andrea repeated when she was certain she had all of Michonne's attention. "But we _are_ overlooking a major element of the story."

Understanding dawned on Michonne's face after Andrea's words landed. Her expression hardened. "Merle Dixon," she said.

Andrea nodded and pointed a finger at Michonne. "Merle Dixon," Andrea repeated in agreement before taking another bite of her sandwich.

Merle Dixon was the known drug dealer Mike had gone to see. A mean-looking redneck who stood at five feet nine inches, he was mentioned in all of the news reports as merely a background player. He had been arrested under suspicion of dealing but he had been released when no hard evidence was produced.

Michonne had been looking into Merle since a while back. His record showed that he had been in and out of juvie then in and out of jail in his adult years. Now he lived on the outskirts of King's County in the middle of nowhere. Michonne had already been planning to talk to him, but she had to admit that the need to talk to him grew stronger after she saw Rick in the hospital. She _needed_ to know what actually happened that day.

"I have to go talk to him," Michonne said aloud.

"I'll go with you," Andrea said.

Michonne felt the desire to do all of this alone but she knew she couldn't talk Andrea out of going. She picked up the rest of her sandwich and finished it off. "Okay," she said. "But you're waiting in the car."

Balling up her napkin and throwing it back into the basket, she put the key back in the ignition and started the engine. The rain was still pouring heavily.

"The hell I am," Andrea said, finishing her own sandwich. They pulled out of the small parking lot at the lake and began to make their way back towards town.

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Rick cursed. Washing dishes became much more frustrating with only the use of one arm. He had just finished having a sandwich for a quick lunch and now he couldn't even wash the plate properly. He was tempted to just take off his sling for a minute and work through the pain. It wouldn't take long to clean a small plate.

He began to slide his sling off of his shoulder but his wife's voice stopped him.

"Uh-uh, uh-uh, uh-uh. Let me do that."

Rick turned to look at Lori, surprised to see her make an appearance at his side. She took the plate from his hand and began to run it under the water.

Rick took a step away, allowing her to take the job from him. He looked down at the top of her head as she bent to scrub at the plate.

"I thought you were taking a nap," Rick said.

Lori just shook her head and continued to wash the plate.

Rick swallowed deeply and shifted on his feet. "Lori...we have to talk about this."

Lori didn't answer again. She scrubbed at the plate harder.

Rick tentatively reached out to touch her arm. "Please."

"Don't-" Lori said, pulling away from him. She held her hand up to stop him from reaching out to her again. "Don't. Don't talk to me. Don't touch me. I can't- I can't do it right now. I just can't." She sniffed and began washing the plate again, still not looking at Rick. She hadn't looked at him for the entire day.

Rick drew in a deep breath. He couldn't just leave it like this. He knew there was something he could say to make it all better. He just knew it. But the words wouldn't come to him. He was never very good at expressing himself with words. He licked his lips and shook his head helplessly.

A frustrated groan from Lori caused him to look up again. The water that had been coming out of the faucet came out in sporadic spurts and then it slowed to a drip. Lori banged her hand against the faucet. "What's wrong with this thing! This is the second time it's doing this!"

"Hold on," Rick said, stopping her from banging on the faucet anymore. "Let me look at it."

"And do what, Rick? You've never been able to fix a faucet. Just call Shane over here so he can handle it."

Rick was slightly hurt by Lori's words. He knew that he shouldn't be; it was just a simple – and correct – observation but he was sensitive today due to his reduced mobility now that one of his arms was in a sling. Plus, her biting tone didn't help matters.

"I can do it," Rick said, squinting down at her through blue eyes. "Just go bring me the toolbox."

Lori gave him a glance but didn't argue further with him. She bent down to look in the cabinet of the sink. "It should be in here. We put it here the last time we had to get the sink fixed." She opened the cabinet door and found it to be empty.

"What?" Rick asked. "It's not in there?"

Lori stood up with a sigh and gestured toward the empty cabinet showing Rick that, yes, it wasn't there.

"Well, where is it?"

"I don't know!" Lori said with a hard shrug of her shoulders. The issue of Rick's infidelity was still heavy on her mind and every look, every touch, every word from him only seemed to add to her irritation.

She closed her eyes when she suddenly remembered. "Oh yeah!"

"What?"

"I let Shane borrow it when he came over last time."

"Great," Rick sighed. "Now we can't fix the sink."

"We can if we do what I suggested the first time and just call Shane!"

"Fine!" Rick said, his own frustration having built in his chest. "Call him!"

Lori stared at Rick with incredulous, wide eyes as he placed his hand on his hip and walked in a small circle. Something he always did when he was frustrated. "You're getting mad at _me_?" Lori asked.

"I'm not getting mad at you," Rick said in a forced gentle tone. "I'm- I'm mad at myself! Everything is just going so wrong lately."

"And whose fault is that?"

Rick turned to meet Lori's eyes with his own pleading gaze. "I don't even know how it happened, Lori!" Rick said. "I told you I don't remember anything! If I had been clear-headed- if I would have known- I would never-!"

"If if if!"

Lori and Rick descended into a full-out argument.

Carl, who had been coming downstairs to ask his parents a question, felt the anticipatory smile fall off of his face. He peeked into the kitchen and saw that they were indeed in a heated exchange. He took a step back, wondering what he should do. He knew it wouldn't do any good to interrupt them and he definitely didn't want to stay in the house and listen to it. Their arguing had become quite frequent lately. He just thought they would take a break from it due to his father's new wound but it seemed that he had been wrong.

He looked down at the comic in his hand and came to a quick decision.

He had found an issue of Superman that made the hero seem like a meathead with a big ego and he had wanted to gloat about it to the new lawyer in town. He had been headed down to ask his parents if he could go and visit a friend. He hadn't planned on saying exactly who since his mom didn't seem to be on good terms with the other woman.

'I'll ask her what that's about too,' Carl thought remembering the slap. He rolled the comic into a cylinder and stuffing it into the pocket of his light jacket, took one more peek into the kitchen to see that his parents were still fighting, and then headed out into the rain. 'I'll be back before they even know I'm gone,' he thought.

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"Shit!" Michonne cursed. "My windshield wipers stopped again."

She pulled to a stop and put her emergency lights on.

"What are you doing?" Andrea asked.

"I'm going to change the wipers," Michonne said. "I have another pair in the trunk."

Andrea sighed and let her head fall against the seat. She was ready to get back to Michonne's home. Their plans had already been ruined and now she had an encounter with a racist redneck to look forward to the next day. All she wanted to do was draw herself a hot bath and soak. "Can't you wait until tomorrow when it's not raining?" Andrea asked. "You can still see!"

Michonne squinted through the front windshield. "No, I can't. It won't take long." Michonne unhooked her seatbelt.

"Ugh! Mich!" Andrea kicked her foot impetuously.

Michonne let out a short chuckle against her will. "Andrea Harrison, are you throwing a tantrum?"

"Will that get you to take us home?" Andrea asked. "Come on, Mich..." she said. "We're almost there. I _need_ a bath. Like. Now."

Michonne sighed and peered out of her front windshield again. She could make out objects well enough. Andrea was right. They were almost there and she really didn't want to get soaked putting in a new set of windshield wipers. She hooked her seatbelt again and turned off her emergency lights. Andrea gave a satisfied smile. "You're a mess," Michonne said with a shake of her head as she started the ignition again.

"Nothing gets between me and a relaxing bath," Andrea joked.

Michonne started off slowly and then increased to a steady speed. It was a straight shot to her house.

"Do you think this Merle guy is going to be difficult?" Andrea asked, peering out at the rain through her window.

"Well, I know you're not supposed to judge a book by its cover," Michonne said. "But I would say..." She and Andrea looked at each other. "Yeah," they said together.

"Not only that but he's an obvious racist," Andrea said throwing a lazy glance at Michonne.

"I know," Michonne said. She remembered Merle's statement playing through a recording on the news. She would never forget what he said in his harsh, raspy voice.

" _Look, I don't care what y'all did to some nigger, but you can't hold me like this. I'm innocent!"_

"King's County did _not_ come off looking good to the rest of the country," Michonne said, tamping down her upset at remembering Merle's words.

"It sure didn't..." Andrea said. "Which is why I still can't completely grasp why you came here-"

A gasp came from both women and Michonne slammed on the brakes when a flash of blue appeared in front of her rain-washed windshield. But it was too late. Both women heard an audible thud and a grunt. Michonne's heart stopped. As did everything else for a moment.

Her hands clenched the steering wheel and her whole body froze for a second. But only for a second. She hurriedly unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the car into the rain to see what she had hit. Her panic only increased when she saw Carl Grimes lying on his side in the road.

Thoughts of Andre crowded her mind.

" _He was just too small! I didn't see him!_ " The driver's words came back to her.

Michonne clutched her head and then she ran forward to the boy. "Carl!" she called, fear evident in her voice. "Carl! Are you alright?"

"What is it?" Andrea asked, following Michonne out of the car. She also panicked a little when she saw that they had hit a kid.

"It's Carl," Michonne said, her eyes wide with panic. "R-Rick's son."

After the initial shock wore off, Andrea could see that the boy was clearly conscious. He just looked stunned. He raised himself up onto his forearm.

At his movement, Michonne put her hand on his arm. She was happy to see him moving, but the panic in her body was still firing at all levels. "Don't move," she said. "We- we have to get you to a hospital or something. Andrea, call 911."

"I'm okay," Carl said, sitting up. "Just scratched my arm a little, I think."

"I think he's okay," Andrea said to her wild-eyed friend. She came forward to help him up. "Come on."

Michonne breathed heavily, watching Carl get to his feet. She tried to pull breath into her lungs but the more she tried, the more it seemed to escape her. Tears filled her eyes as she gasped for air and everything became silent.

"Michonne?" Andrea's voice sounded far away. "Michonne."

After Carl was on his feet, Andrea knelt in front of her friend and grasped her face in her hands. "Michonne. Michonne. Look at me. It's okay. He's okay. See? He's standing up. He's fine." Andrea pulled Michonne into a hug, so worried that she could think of nothing more than to hold her friend. "I'm so sorry," Andrea said, stroking her hand over Michonne's dreads. "I'm so, so sorry."

Michonne felt the rise and fall of Andrea's chest against her own and she focused in on remembering how to breathe.

"I'm sorry," Andrea continued to say.

Carl was standing. Andrea was there. Michonne pulled deep breaths in and out before letting her arms circle Andrea's waist, returning her hug.

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A few minutes later, Carl was warm and cozy in Michonne's home. He had a plate of cookies on his lap, a dry bathrobe on while his wet clothes turned in the household dryer, and the scratches on his arm had been treated. His ankle had also been wrapped with a bandage because he felt some soreness in it and Michonne said she didn't want it to swell if there was any helping it.

Michonne, dressed in her own dry clothing – a form-fitting shirt and jeans – was sitting beside him. She had just finished blow drying his hair. The blow dryer was still held in her hand while she listened to Carl talk about Superman.

Andrea watched them curiously from the doorway leading from the living room to the kitchen. Andrea hadn't seen Michonne be as present as this ever since Mike and Andre's death. Not even with her. There was always the shadow of a memory behind her eyes or a past thought holding her somewhere nine months ago. Now, however, she was listening intently to this eleven-year-old kid. About a silly Superman story.

Andrea smiled when Michonne sent a hot stream of air in Carl's direction, blowing his hair in wild directions. She must've heard something she didn't like.

"Hey!" Carl laughed, straightening his hair back down with his hand.

Michonne gave a half-smile of her own and helped him straighten his hair again with her hand.

Andrea hated to interrupt the scene but Carl had been there for at least forty-five minutes already. "Hey, Michonne?" she called.

Michonne looked Andrea's way and stood up. "We'll finish this later," Michonne said tossing the blow dryer aside. "Don't think it's over." She followed Andrea into the kitchen.

"We have to call his parents and let them know what happened," Andrea said when they were alone.

Michonne sighed and nodded. "Yeah," she said. "I'll take care of it."

"You sure?" Andrea asked.

"Yeah," Michonne said.

A concerned expression crossed Andrea's face. "Are you okay? I think you were having a panic attack back there."

"I'm okay," Michonne said. "That's never happened before."

"I know. You scared me." Andrea looked down at her feet and slid her hands into her back pockets. "I'm sorry about acting bratty about a bath." She shook her head and chuckled derisively at even having to apologize for something that sounded so silly. "I should have let you put those wipers on. After knowing what happened with your son..." Andrea shook her head again. She felt shitty. "I'm a horrible friend."

Michonne shook her own head. "It's not your fault. You're the best friend a woman could ask for. I don't know what I would do without you."

Andrea still felt shitty but she gave Michonne a small smile. "Thank you."

The two women hugged. "Uhh!" Andrea said, hating feeling all emotional. She ran her hand up and down Michonne's back. "Okay. You have some phone calls to make."

"And you have a bath to take," Michonne said with a teasing smile.

"Stop," Andrea pleaded with a chuckle.

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Rick stood alone in the kitchen. Both he and Lori had exhausted themselves from the argument and nothing had been achieved. The kitchen sink was still broken and so were they.

When his cell phone rang, he pulled it from his pocket and brought it to his ear half-heartedly. "Hello?"

"Rick?"

Rick recognized the voice. He turned all of his attention to the call. "Yeah?"

"It's Michonne."

"I know."

"Carl's at my house. I- I kind of hit him with my car." Rick froze. "But he's okay!" Michonne rushed to say. "He only has a scratch and maybe a twisted ankle. Do you want to come over?"

"Yeah," Rick said, still wrapping his head around what she was telling him. "Yeah. I'll be there in a minute." He hung up the phone and began to head out immediately. He paused, wondering if he should tell Lori but then he thought better of it. It was best if he saw just what he was dealing with first.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Does Dad Know?**

Michonne stepped aside and allowed Rick entry into her home. The strangely sweet scent of cinnamon and flowers greeted him as he stepped inside. He swept the jacket he had been using as a cover against the rain to the side and shook it a little, sending droplets of water falling down to land on Michonne's hardwood floor. Her eyes followed the raindrops as they spattered to the floor but she didn't say anything. She was still feeling too shaken up about having hit the man's son with her car to berate him over a bit of water.

"He's in here," Michonne said, leading Rick to her living room. She took his wet jacket from his hand and placed it on the coat rack near the door as she went by.

Rick glanced through the doorway of the kitchen and saw fresh baked cookies sitting on the counter near the stove. He figured that must be where the smell of cinnamon was coming from. Rolling his injured shoulder slightly to take some of the discomfort out of it, he followed Michonne through to the living room.

He tried not to feel odd about being in her home after everything, but it was impossible not to. His eyes flitted to the hallway that he knew led to her room at the end when he stepped into the living room. Thoughts of waking up confused and undressed came to his mind. He hurriedly swept them away and scanned the room until his eyes landed on his son. No worse for wear.

He was eating cookies and looked snug as a bug in what he assumed must be one of Michonne's bathrobes.

"Dad!" Carl said. "I was just telling Michonne how much Superman sucks. You wanna hear?"

Rick took in Carl's state of being. A bandaid on his elbow, a bandage around his ankle...nothing too serious. He released a sigh of relief, not realizing how tense he had been until he stepped inside and saw that his son was alright. "Not now, son," he said before turning to Michonne. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Carl's excited smile dropped an inch before he bit into another cookie.

Michonne noticed the slight drop of Carl's shoulders. She turned to answer Rick's questions so that they could get past the awkward part of this meeting. "My windshield wipers stopped working," Michonne said, looking up at Rick. The hand of his uninjured arm was on his hip and his eyes told her he was taking in everything that she was saying. Michonne suddenly wished Andrea would hurry and finish her bath so that someone else could come and split the focus of this blue-eyed man. "The rain was heavy and I just didn't see Carl crossing the street until it was too late. Luckily I wasn't driving very fast at all so the damage was very minor."

"I'll be the one to determine how minor the damage was," Rick snipped.

Michonne nodded. "Of course."

"I'm fine, Dad," Carl offered from over his plate of cookies. "She barely tapped me."

Rick glanced over his son's way, acknowledging his words, but he didn't want to let go of the irritation that was still nagging at his mind from his earlier confrontation with his wife.

It was needless to say that Rick was having a bad week. He had been unfaithful, he had been shot, and now his wife was angry at him and his marriage was on even shakier ground than it had been before. Now his son had been hit with a car. And it was easy to place the blame on the woman standing in front of him. Because in his mind, this had all started with her.

"Can I talk to you?" Rick asked Michonne, wanting to speak to her in private.

"Sure," Michonne said. Rick gave Carl instructions to wait where he was while Michonne led him through to the hallway. When they were momentarily alone, she turned to face him. The once roomy hallway seemed much too narrow with Rick hovering over her. There was something almost predatory about his stare. "It's good that no one was hurt in this accident," Michonne said, pre-emptively defending herself from whatever statement it seemed Rick was about to make in anger.

"My son seems pretty hurt to me," Rick said with a tilt of his head. "He's got scratches all over his body."

"He told you himself that he was okay," Michonne said, growing more defensive.

"Of course he would. He's a young boy; he doesn't want any trouble."

"Do _you_?" Michonne asked, crossing her arms over her chest. Feeling attacked from his sudden and unexpected onslaught, her feelings of regret were beginning to fade towards him.

"I don't have to look for trouble when you're around; you just seem to bring it," Rick said. He began to lift his arm to rub the back of his neck out of habit but a sharp pain brought back the realization that one of his arms was currently out of use. "Ah!" He sucked a pained gasp of air between his teeth. "Damnit!"

Michonne's eyes fell to Rick's sling and the bandages underneath. A spot of red was showing through his crisp, gray t-shirt. She winced involuntarily, knowing the pain that came with ripped stitches. She had gotten a shoulder injury herself long ago and she remembered the pain and the inconvenience of it well.

"You ripped your stitches," she said matter-of-factly, her arms still crossed over her chest.

"Is it true that you don't remember anything from the other night?" Rick asked, ignoring Michonne's statement and the pain radiating through his shoulder.

"It's true," Michonne answered immediately even though she was a bit taken aback by the question.

Rick gritted his teeth together. "It's just strange that neither one of us remembers anything at all. I don't usually black out from drinking. And I don't remember having that much to drink." An image of Michonne handing him a glass of alcohol flashed into his mind. He squinted as he tried to grasp that picture and hold onto it.

Michonne nodded. "It is strange..."

She watched Rick's face tick as he tried to piece together the missing memories of that night. Oddly, she didn't feel anxious or resistant at the thought of him figuring out her hand in the matter. Maybe things would be less confusing if he _did_ figure out that she drugged him. Maybe things would become clearer for her if everything came out into the open.

The door of the bathroom opened and Andrea stepped out, toweling her hair dry. She slowed and came to a stop when she saw the two people in the hallway.

"...Hi..." she said.

Startled at someone else being in the house, Rick turned to the blonde woman and nodded his head. A look of questioning curiosity was on his face.

"This is Andrea," Michonne said, introducing the two people. "She's a friend of mine from back home. Andrea, this is Rick."

Andrea took Rick in and then stepped forward to shake his hand. "Hey," she said again.

"Hi. Nice to meet you," Rick replied.

Michonne and Andrea shared a short look before Michonne spoke again. "His son is still in the living room. Maybe you could go in and keep him company while we finish up here?" she asked Andrea.

"Sure-" Andrea began to say with a nod.

"I think we're pretty much done," Rick cut in. "I just needed to know if my son was alright. He is. I'll get him and take him home now."

Michonne grabbed Rick's wrist before he could walk away. "I actually want to talk to you about something else before you leave. If that's okay."

Rick stared down at the woman in front of him and felt the same thing he had felt when he first saw her. The pull of wanting to get to know her better and find out what was happening behind her wide, brown eyes but also the immediate feeling of wanting – maybe needing – to escape. To get as far away from the dark-skinned beauty as he possibly could.

"...Okay..." Rick said, the curiosity of wanting to know what she wanted to tell him winning out over all else. "But I only have a few minutes." He lifted the wrist of his good arm to glance at his watch. "My wife doesn't know about the accident. I have to get back and tell her."

Seeing that they had come to an agreement, Andrea shared a nod with Michonne and then made her way into the living room where she had to figure out how to entertain a pre-teen boy. Unlike her friend, she didn't consider herself to be kid friendly. She had no idea how to interact with them. But she would give it a shot...She sighed and entered the living room, leaving Rick and Michonne to talk about whatever they needed to talk about.

"Can we go in here?" Michonne asked, pointing towards her bedroom door at the end of the hall. She was sensitive to the open doorway of the living room. She didn't know whether it was because of the unwanted scare of having run over a child or if it was the shock of Rick getting shot from a week ago or if it was a combination of the two, but she was feeling a strong urge to let Rick know of her intentions upon entering the town. There was no satisfaction or answers coming from this cloak and dagger routine. If she laid everything out on the table, maybe she could finally get somewhere in this whole mess of a situation she had found herself in since nine months back.

A crash of thunder split the sky and the lights flickered in Michonne's home. Rick and Michonne both squinted up at the flickering light fixture. They would have found the literal dramatics comical if either of them was in the state of mind to find anything comical. But the fact of the matter was that they were not. They were both preoccupied by other thoughts.

Considerations flitted through Rick's mind as he thought about entering that bedroom again. He didn't like the idea. "I think here's fine," he said, his eyes moving from the lights that were no longer sputtering in and out to Michonne's face.

Michonne sighed and glanced toward the open doorway once before she relented. "Fine," she said.

Her eyes focused on the spot of blood showing through on Rick's shirt. "I have a confession to make..."

Rick shifted on his feet and gave all of his attention to Michonne. "What kind of confession?"

Michonne thought of Mike and Andre and her eyes grew hard and her resolve grew stronger. She was facing the man that possibly ruined her life and she was about to tell him everything. Michonne's breathing grew deeper and she met Rick's eyes. "I-"

"Michonne, you might wanna get in here!"

Michonne turned at the sound of Andrea's voice and made her way to the living room doorway. Perplexed by the interruption. An annoyed Rick followed behind her.

"We have a tornado warning," Andrea said, pointing at the television. Carl was sitting beside her, an empty plate sitting in his lap. "It looks like it's gonna be pretty close. They're saying it probably won't hit us but we may lose power for a couple of days."

"Shit," Michonne said, momentarily distracted from the confession she had been about to make. "Does _nothing_ go right in this shithole town?"

"Watch your language," Rick said, mindful of Carl in the room. He walked past Michonne and further into the living room so that he could see the screen of the television. He had also become distracted from the confession at hand. "And it's not like the city is immune to power outages, is it?"

Michonne ignored Rick's quip at her expense and went to collect the plate from Carl's lap. "Well, how long do we have?" she asked.

"The tornadoes supposed to be making its way toward us in a couple of hours," Andrea said. "So we should have power for at least an hour more. We should take this time to stock up on water and stuff. Do you have some flashlights?"

The thunder rumbling outside and the showering of rain – comforts to Michonne before – now seemed like annoyances. She sighed as she rinsed off Carl's plate. "Yeah," she called back into the living room. "I have a couple of flashlights in the attic."

"I'll get them," Rick said, before Andrea could get up from her seat. "Are they still with all of those metal things you refused to get rid of?" Rick asked Michonne when she came back into the living room wiping her hands.

"Metal things? Those are state-of-the-art sculptures, thank you very much," Michonne replied. "And they have the-"

"-potential to be very, very expensive if you ask the right collector. I know, I know," Rick finished for her. "So is that where the flashlights still are or not?"

"Yes," Michonne said with a sigh. "That's where the flashlights still are."

Andrea watched the two of them with her eyebrows raised and when Rick left to go upstairs to the attic as if he were very familiar with the layout of the place, she crossed her arms over her chest and turned to Michonne wanting an explanation.

"What?" Michonne asked with a shrug.

"Is the layout of all the houses on this block the same or something?"

"No. Why?"

Andrea released a breath through her nose and then turned to the young boy beside her. "Carl..." she said. "Can you go to the kitchen and start placing the rest of that cookie dough on the baking sheet to finish making those cookies?"

Carl glanced at Michonne for permission and when she gave it, he got off of the couch. "Sure," he said.

When he was out of the room, Andrea leaned forward on the couch and grabbed Michonne's hand – pulling her toward her so that they could speak in quiet whispers and out of earshot of Carl. "Why is it that that man seems to know your place inside and out?" she asked a confused Michonne. "Like he's been here before?"

"Because he helped me move in when I got here," Michonne answered. "I thought I told you thought."

Andrea thought back, trying to remember if she did or not. But she quickly swept that aside. "Maybe you did," she said. "But that doesn't explain why you two are talking back and forth like old friends or like a _married_ couple."

Michonne stood back slightly. "What are you trying to say?" she asked, feeling that Andrea was insinuating something.

"I'm not trying to say anything," Andrea replied. "I just think it's very suspicious that Rick Grimes – the man you claim to _hate –_ is chummy enough with you to know where you keep your spare flashlights! I mean...what's going on here Michonne? You're barely telling me anything so I'm making wild guesses."

Michonne sighed and stood back. She was saved from answering by Rick's reemergence into the room. He carried two flashlights with him. "I have to go back home and make sure Lori knows about the coming weather," he said as he handed the two women in the room flashlights. "Carl," he called. "You ready to go?" Michonne took note of the fact that he was all authority and assertion in the face of a potential emergency. "Will you two be okay here?" he asked Andrea and Michonne.

"My clothes..." Carl said, appearing in the doorway again.

"Right," Rick uttered. Carl was still dressed in Michonne's bathrobe. He walked over to the washer and dryer in the corner of the living room and threw the door back. He opened the door of the dryer, stopping it short and felt inside to see if the clothes were dry. He concluded that they were dry enough. "Here," he said, taking them out and handing them to Carl. "Go to the bathroom and put these on. We'll leave when you're done."

Carl limped over to take the clothes and then limped out of the room.

"Looks like I won't be able to take a flight out for maybe another week..." Andrea said, leaving the issue she had been discussing with Michonne for a later time.

"Yeah, well, that's too bad," Michonne said. It looked like she still wasn't over it. Andrea watched Michonne leave to go to her room for something and rolled her eyes. She didn't know why Michonne was upset. She figured if anyone should be upset, it should be her for not being let in on what the hell was going on.

To make things stranger, Rick turned to Andrea soon after saying, "I'll be right back." And then he followed Michonne towards her room.

Andrea could only scoff in disbelief and stay sitting in the living room alone with her confusion.

Rick found Michonne squatting in front of a brown dresser drawer in her room and pulling folded clothes out of one of the drawers. He stood in the wide open doorway and hovered there. "Hey..." he said quietly, not knowing if she had been aware of his presence or not. Michonne looked over her shoulder to acknowledge him before returning to her task. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry about earlier...You know...being difficult with Carl's injuries and everything. I know you didn't mean to hit him and he's not seriously hurt. I'm just- I'm just dealing with a lot of stuff right now so I was a little snippy."

Michonne's eyebrows raised. She was surprised that he was apologizing for such an insignificant thing as being upset over his kid's injuries. It was an understandable thing as a parent. She shook her head and said as much without turning to face him. "It's okay. I understand." Her actions of removing clothing from her drawer slowed when she came across what she was looking for. A necklace cased in a small plastic bag that Mike had given her with the letter 'M' dangling from the chain. She smiled softly and removed it from its hiding place.

"I'm uh..." Rick cleared his throat. And she could hear him shifting his feet on the carpeted floor of the room. "I'm also sorry about...about what happened. The other night. With us, you know. I know it wasn't your fault. And as a man, I feel it's up to me to apologize. I never should have put myself in a position where I could compromise you like that."

Michonne chuckled. "You're apologizing again?" she asked.

Unbelievable. It was unbelievable. He had apologized after waking up and finding them in bed together. He apologized after she ran over his kid. He apologized _again_ about a night that didn't even happen. Because he felt he compromised her. It was all so unbelievable. He was too damn perfect and no one was that perfect. Especially not someone who she believed to have ruined her life. He couldn't be.

Rick shook his head. No matter how he thought of it he felt like he was the bad guy in all of this. He should have never let himself get so drunk that he couldn't remember the events of that night. It had caused him to take advantage of a woman he barely knew and to cheat on his wife.

"I _would_ ask you to help me with this," Michonne said, standing up with her necklace in her hand. She placed it around her neck and began to clasp it together. "But you're currently not in the best position to do that, are you?"

Rick looked down at his arm in a sling and tilted his head in agreement. Michonne finished clasping her necklace together in good time and ran her hand along the 'M', admiring it in the mirror.

"...Your wife told me that you told her what happened between us..." Michonne said, her eyes jumping up to meet Rick's through the reflection in the mirror. Rick took a deep breath. "Is everything okay with you two?"

Rick didn't answer immediately.

"Sorry if I'm overstepping my bounds-" Michonne started.

Rick shook his head again. "It's fine. It's...something we're working on." He nodded, not wanting to get into it further than that.

Michonne nodded in understanding. Her eyes went to the spot of blood that had grown bigger on Rick's shirt. She went to her closet and took down a first aide kit. "Come inside," she said. "And close the door."

Rick hesitated. Then he stepped inside and closed the door.

"Sit down," Michonne instructed, gesturing toward the bed.

Rick felt for all the world that he wasn't completely in control of his body. Or his mind for that matter. He did as Michonne instructed. Even though that feeling of needing to get away was on him again. He sat down on the bed and it was natural as ever when Michonne began to remove his sling. And then – very carefully – his shirt. And then his bandage.

Kneeling before him, Michonne inhaled a breath and allowed her eyes to wander over Rick's bare torso once before she began to administer to his wound. He sucked in a breath when she pressed cotton with an alcoholic substance to his skin. "Do you know what you're doing?" he asked.

A small upturn of Michonne's lips didn't really put Rick at ease. "That's probably something you should have asked before you started letting me do this to you, don't you think?"

"Yeah..." Rick said.

Michonne's eyes flitted up to his when he didn't say anything more than that. He didn't need to. She could see that he trusted her and he was just as perplexed by that fact as she was. Because she didn't deserve his trust.

She blew a gentle breath between her lips to cool the burning sensation on Rick's wound and then she began to get ready to remove the stitches he had gotten from the hospital. "I'm not gonna lie," she said before she started. "This is probably gonna hurt like hell."

The thunder and the rain outside created a calming background noise that Rick was somehow tuned into and welcoming to even as he knew they were possibly at the beginning of a tumultuous storm.

"That's okay," Rick said. "I'm used to pain."

Michonne quirked her eyebrows. "Kinky," she joked.

Rick surprised himself by laughing. And Michonne surprised herself by smiling along.

"I don't even know how you managed to rip your stitches not even a day out of the hospital," Michonne said, starting in on the job. Rick gritted his teeth as she worked. Her hands were surprisingly fast and firm but gentle. "It's not like they did a bad job."

"I'm just lucky like that," Rick said, glad for her talking so that he could distract himself.

"I guess so..."

"What is it that you wanted to tell me earlier?" he asked. "We got interrupted..."

Focused on his wound, making sure she didn't hurt more than help, Michonne cleaned as she went. Dabbing up the lifeblood flowing from Rick's veins with her hands. "I was going to say..." Michonne licked her lips, considering her choices. "It's not your fault about what happened between us."

Michonne's eyes and lips were set in a focused frown. Rick watched her as she took up a needle and thread and began to get ready to sew him back up again.

"And the truth is..." Michonne pierced his skin. Rick bared the pain. "I'm not sorry it happened." Brown eyes flitted up to blue. "I'm sorry about the trouble it's brought to your marriage but...I'm not sorry it happened," she said again.

A breath hitched in Rick's throat as he watched Michonne work. It was true. He needed to escape.

Michonne worked gently and carefully finishing up the closing of Rick's wound.

"Michonne?" Andrea's voice called from the living room. "What are you doing? Carl's out. He's ready to go."

Michonne sighed as she took up the wrap bandages from the first aide kit. "Just a minute!" she called through the door. She realized all of this would just cause more confusion on Andrea's end but she was confused herself. As much as she wanted to hate this man, there was a genuineness about him that simply made it almost impossible.

She needed to know more. When she and Andrea were able to find a time to talk to Merle...then they would know more. Then she would know where to go from here.

Until then, she would let things run their course.

She wrapped the clean bandages around Rick's shoulder, secured them off, and then helped him to get back into his shirt. All the while, Rick studied Michonne with intense eyes and moved on autopilot.

'What is this?' he wondered. 'Why am I so drawn to this woman? Why is she so damn infuriating?'

"You're not sorry?" he asked.

He allowed her to help him put the sling back on his arm; his eyes were glued to her face.

Guilt at allowing him to believe that something happened between them coursed through Michonne's body. She fought it. If he was the man she thought he was, this was justified. She had to keep reminding herself of that fact. She stroked the 'M' on her necklace.

"How could I be?" Michonne asked. "It's not like you're the worst man around town."

Rick gritted his teeth. It sounded like she was saying she didn't mind sleeping with him. That was more infuriating than anything. She needed to be upset. She needed to make him swear never to touch her again. Why couldn't she curse at him and call him the bastard he was?

He stood up quickly.

Michonne pulled back, startled at his sudden movement, and took a step back when she looked up into his eyes. That predatory look was back again.

He caught her arm before she could move further away from him and Michonne's heart began to pound in her chest. Her breathing grew heavy, matching the heaving of Rick's own chest and soon she found herself pressed up against his torso. By force of hand or by force of nature, she wasn't sure how it happened but she was there.

'This isn't real,' she thought. 'This is all for Mike and Andre. This isn't real. What the hell is wrong with me?'

Rick leaned down and Michonne felt his breath against her lips. She blinked rapidly before lifting her face to his and parting her lips. Asking for him to close the gap. A second of suspended time passed wherein questions and heavy consequences filled the inch of space between the two peoples' lips. And then darkness fell around them and the dying whir of the air conditioner spread through the house. Power was gone from the house.

Only the background noise of the storm was left.

Rick and Michonne continued to breathe together for a second more. Their breath still reaching each other's lips before Rick spoke. A whisper in the darkness.

"Stay away from me," he breathed. "Please. Just stay away from me."

And then he was gone. His warmth gone from her chest. His breath gone from her lips. The space before her empty. She was only left with a ghost from her past.

She could feel Mike in the room with her.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

She was only met with silence.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: We Gon' Hold Hands and Ride Off Into the Sunset?**

The rain had lessened but the wind had kicked up by the time Rick stepped outside and began to make his way back home with Carl. He shelved whatever had just happened between him and Michonne to the back of his mind. He didn't have time to dwell on it. He couldn't.

The wind forced resistance against his body as he slowly made his way back home. The wind whipped his hair and Carl's aside. He glanced over to his son to see that he was making his way, with difficulty, through the storm only a couple of steps behind him. "We'll get your mom, grab a couple of things, and then go down into the basement when we get home," he yelled over to his son, raising his voice so he could be heard above the relentless whipping of the wind.

Carl nodded to show he understood.

Coming up on their home, Rick noticed Shane's black Chevy in the driveway. He pushed the door open and was greeted with a relieved Lori. Shane was right behind her.

"Oh, thank God," she said, coming towards him. "Where were you? One minute you were here and the next you were gone!" She pulled Carl to her body to wrap him in a hug and Rick nodded a greeting to Shane.

"I'll explain later," Rick said, feeling that now wasn't the right time to bring up the fact that he had been at Michonne's house. "There's a tornado coming," he said, focusing on the matter at hand. "We need to get down to the basement."

"Power's off all over the neighborhood," Shane said, going back to what he had been doing – grabbing water and snacks from the kitchen to take down to the basement since they didn't know how long they would be down there. "I came here to make sure everything was okay with you guys and I found Lori freaking out because you were gone." He cast a glance over his shoulder at Rick who had followed him into the kitchen to help him collect a few things and he thought he saw a flash of accusation in his friend's face but Rick decided to overlook it. He concluded that his injury, his problems with Lori, and now the storm was making him too sensitive about a few things.

Rick glanced into the living room to see Lori leaning down and focusing on comforting a seemingly unshaken Carl (the comfort seemed to be doing her more good than him) when he turned back to Shane with a lowered voice. "Carl was in a little accident and I had to pick him up from Michonne's," he said to his long-time friend. "She and her friend are alone at their house; maybe you could drop over there and make sure everything is taken care of." He located flashlights from underneath the cabinet and loaded them with batteries to get ready to combat an already darkening afternoon. "I had to leave right when the power went out."

He glanced over at Shane who was looking back at him with narrowed eyes. "Carl was in an accident?" Shane asked. Rick held his hand out to keep his friend's voice down and took a glance back into the living room to make sure Lori hadn't heard. "What kind of accident?" Shane finished in a lowered voice.

"She-" Rick sighed through his nose, realizing how bad what he was going to say would sound. "She hit him with her car," he said with a tilt of his head.

Shane's eyes widened and Rick held his hand up again to stop the other man from jumping to panicked mode.

"Everything's fine. Carl's alright; Michonne's alright. It's-it's all fine."

"Lori doesn't know about it yet?" Shane asked, making a deduction judging from Rick's shifty behavior.

Rick tilted his head again and pulled his face in an expression that read clearly 'It's complicated'. "I know that she's going to get all worried and upset and I'm just...waiting until things blow over a little." He was talking about more than just the storm. He and Lori had just got done fighting about his unfaithful tryst with Michonne. When she found out that the other woman had run into her son with her car, Rick couldn't think of any calm way that discussion could go.

Shane sighed and rubbed his hand across his hair, obviously not wanting to be a part of whatever secret Rick was keeping from Lori this time.

"Can you just go check on 'em?" Rick asked again, speaking of Michonne and her friend again. "I feel kind of bad running out on 'em so fast, but I needed to get back here."

Shane bit his lip, glancing surreptitiously around the kitchen, before he finally nodded his head. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, sure. I've been meaning to check back in with Michonne anyway."

Rick nodded his head, ignoring the strange feeling Shane's words roused in his gut and the image of Michonne lifting her face up to him waiting for his kiss. "I'll keep things nailed down here," he said instead.

"Okay." Shane pulled his cap out of his back pocket and pulled it onto his head. "You keep this family of yours safe," he said. "I'm gonna go check up on two ladies in need of a knight."

Rick chuckled as Shane returned levity to the atmosphere and the conversation. They shared a hug goodbye as Rick spoke through his smile. "I wouldn't say anything like that to them," he said. "They both give off the vibe that they can do anything by themselves and don't like to be told they can't."

"I'm already ahead of you brother," Shane replied with a pat to Rick's back.

"You're leaving?" Lori's voice traveled to Rick's ears as Shane passed through the living room toward the door.

"Yeah," Shane's voice replied. "Rick's here now so I don't need to be. See you two later. Carl? Take care of your mama, man."

"I will."

"Okay..." Lori's voice sounded laden with hesitancy. "Be safe Shane."

"I will."

The opening and closing of the door sounded and the Grimes family was left to face the storm on their own.

00000000000000000000000000000000000

Michonne and Andrea were in the middle of having a quiet argument.

"What are you doing exactly? I just don't get it!" Andrea said. Michonne rolled her eyes, wishing Andrea would get over the topic and move on.

"I'm not _d_ o _ing_ anything!" Michonne argued back.

"What were you in there talking to him about?"

Michonne put her hand on her hip, staring Andrea in the eye. "Why does it even matter to you?!" she asked. "We didn't talk about anything! I changed his stitches and then he left! That's it!" Michonne shook the image of Rick leaning down to kiss her out of her mind.

"It _matters_ to me because, in case you haven't noticed, he's married! And I don't want my friend getting involved with some married guy!"

Anger flashed in Michonne's eyes. "I am _not '_ getting involved' with him," she said, her voice cold and hard with irritation. "He is the man who killed Mike. That's all he is. I couldn't like him even if I tried."

Andrea sighed, realizing that this was a touchy subject and she should probably start to approach it with more finesse. "I understand that, but-"

A knock sounded at the door and Michonne was glad for the interruption. She turned on her heel, still feeling upset inside, and went to the door. When she opened it to find a grinning Shane on the other side, her brow furrowed curiously for a moment and then she moved aside to let him in from the storm.

"Whoo!" Shane said, taking his cap off and pounding it against his knee to rid it of the stray rain droplets – Michonne's brow scrunched together in irritation as rain water spattered her floor for the second time that day. She had just cleaned up the water that Rick had left behind.

Unluckily for him, Shane didn't have a son that Michonne had just hit with her car so he didn't get the same pardon that Rick had gotten. Michonne placed her hand on his chest, keeping him from moving and then quickly went to the kitchen where she brought back a dry rag. "You're dripping water all over the floor like a stray dog. Clean it up. And take those muddy boots off while you're at it. Don't trail it all over the house."

Andrea had appeared in the door of the entrance way and leaned against it to look over the scene and the new man that had just entered the house. Her eyebrows lifted appreciatively at the sight Shane presented and she thought to herself that King's County sure produced some fine-looking men if nothing else.

Shane looked between the two women with a bemused expression as he took the rag from Michonne's hand. "Damn," he said. "I feel like I just been transported back to my mama's house." He turned his focus back to Michonne. "You wanna give me a spanking too?"

"Ugh." Andrea rolled her eyes and made her way back to the living room, deeming that his attractiveness apparently ended at his looks.

Equally, Michonne gave Shane an unamused stare. The smile faltered on his lips and he took his shoes off as she had asked. "Other people seem to like my humor," he muttered.

"What are you doing here?" Michonne asked. "Didn't you hear the news about a tornado coming?"

"That's why I'm here," Shane said, standing up after he had taken off his shoes and swiped the floor dry with the rag in his hands. "I wanted to check up on ya. See how you're doing."

"We're doing okay," Michonne said with a shrug of her shoulders. "I'm not really expecting the tornado to hit us so I'm not too worried. It's just going to be inconvenient with the power gone for the next few days."

"I don't know," Shane said. "It's lookin' pretty bad out there so I don't think there's anything wrong with being extra cautious in the next few hours. Y'all got a basement?"

"No," Michonne said. "We were planning on hunkering down in the hallway for a little while..."

Shane bit his lip, not really liking the sound of that. A basement was much safer. "I wonder why they didn't build all the houses the same..." he muttered again. "How about this," he said, a thought coming to his mind. He moved his weight from one foot to the other as he came to a decision. "Why don't y'all grab a few things, come down to the Grimes' house with me, and then we can all hunker down in the basement they got. How's that?"

Andrea poked her head back into the entryway at this suggestion.

Michonne immediately began to shake her head. "Oh no," she said. "No. We'll be fine here." Being stuck in a house with Rick Grimes – whose last words to her had been to stay away - and his wife – who had slapped her the last time they met – sounded like the last thing she wanted to do.

Andrea crossed her arms back over her chest, watching Michonne's reaction with a curious expression.

Shane was watching her curiously as well. "Come on now," he said. "It'll only be for a couple of hours and it's a whole lot safer."

"I think we're safe here."

"Why not?" Andrea said, her eyes still focused on Michonne. "It sounds like a good idea to me."

Michonne stared at Andrea for a moment, silently fuming. "How about this," she said. "You two go without me and I'll just stay here."

Shane stared questioningly down at Michonne. "What's goin' on?" he asked with a curious chuckle. "You got somethin' against Rick and Lori or somethin'? You seemed to like them fine at the policeman's ball..."

A phantom itch irritated Michonne's forehead; she took care of it. "I like them fine."

"You do?" Andrea asked.

Michonne fixed Andrea with another hard stare, beginning to wonder if her friend was starting to overstay her welcome. "Yes," Michonne pressed. "I do." She couldn't very much let on to Rick's best friend that there was anything other than neighborly appreciation between her and the deputy sheriff.

Andrea shrugged. "Then fine. Let's go over to their place." She fixed Shane with a polite smile. "We'll be ready to go in a few. Just let us grab a few things."

When Andrea turned to leave, Michonne followed behind her, letting Shane know to wait at the door with a forced and polite smile of her own.

"What are you doing?" she whispered angrily to her friend while Andrea stood up on her toes and pulled blankets from her closet in the guest bedroom. She handed them to Michonne as she pulled them down.

" _I'm_ planning on finding out just what my friend's been up to here in King's County for the past few weeks. Here." She handed her another blanket and then closed the closet door.

Michonne scowled and looked at the folded blankets in her arms. "And what are these blankets for?"

"Who knows? We may have to stay the night." She then gave an annoyingly perky smile, patted Michonne on the shoulder, and waltzed by her, exiting the room.

A low growl of annoyance escaped Michonne's throat and she turned to follow her friend. She wanted nothing more but to stay in her own home and risk getting taken out by a tornado than to travel the few blocks down to the Grimes' house. But she also knew that if she didn't come along, it would look suspicious to Shane who had already begun asking questions at her hesitance to go in the first place.

'This should be interesting,' she thought with a frown on her face as she got ready to follow Shane and Andrea to Rick's place.

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Rick stared at the three people on his doorstep wondering if they, fate, or any other kind of power were trying to play a joke on him. Shane, Michonne, and Andrea stood outside his door with blankets, flashlights, and bottles of water in their hands. His eyes first flashed to the blonde woman who was smiling disconcertingly at him, then to Michonne who knew better than to meet his eyes, and then to his best friend Shane who he told to look after the women not bring them to his door.

"Who is it?" Lori asked, coming from the hallway. Her smile dropped when she saw Michonne at the door. Her eyes dropped to the blankets and water in their hands and she immediately began to shake her head.

Rick's head fell and he almost wished he could step outside to face the elements rather than stay inside now with his wife.

"No," Lori said, her voice defiant.

Shane who had started to come into the house with familiarity paused in his steps and looked between the people on the inside and the outside of the house. "What's goin' on?" he asked, with a small curious smile. "Somethin' wrong?"

"Come in," Rick said to Andrea and Michonne, conscious of the wild winds blowing through the streets. He moved aside, making sure to keep a careful distance from Michonne as she stepped by him. Rick closed the door behind them and turned to face his wife who was giving him a hard stare before she stormed off into another room.

"Excuse me..." Rick said, leaving to follow after his wife.

Michonne and Andrea glanced at each other, Andrea with an uncomfortable expression. "I told you this was a bad idea," Michonne whispered.

"Can someone tell me what the fuck is goin' on?" a confused Shane asked.

"That's what I want to know," Andrea said, still staring at Michonne.

Michonne sighed and turned away. "Just show us where the basement is."

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"I want her out of here," Lori said, pacing wildly in her and Rick's bedroom. "I want her gone."

Rick went forward with his arm extended, wanting to bring her to a stop and hold her for comfort. "Lori-"

"No," she said, pushing him away. "I want her gone. Now."

"What am I supposed to do? Send them out in the storm when they've come here for safety?"

Lori scoffed. "Safety. I'm sure their house is just fine." She shook her head. "Why did Shane bring them here in the first place? What is he even doing with them?"

Rick sighed. "I told him to go check on them."

Lori stopped pacing and looked at Rick as if she wasn't sure that she had heard him right. "Wait," she said. "What? Why- why would you do that?"

Rick tried to go forward and create contact between them again. To calm her down before she grew agitated but she side-stepped him, avoiding his hand and his embrace. "I was at their place when the power went out," Rick said, explaining with his eyes on the floor. "I had gone over there because Carl had a little accident. Michonne had- had hit him with her car." His eyes flew up to see Lori's face pale and her mouth open indignantly. "But Carl's okay," Rick rushed to explain. "No one was hurt. Michonne called me first thing and she took care of him until I got there."

Lori pushed her hair back from her face with both hands. It felt too hot against her skin. She inhaled a deep breath and sat down on the bed, hanging her head in her hands. "Oh my god...Oh my god, I can't believe this," she muttered quietly to herself.

"Lori-"

"No!" Lori held up her hands, once again stopping Rick from reaching out to her. "Don't you touch me." She pointed toward the door and looked at Rick with hurt, rage-filled eyes. "That _woman_ hit our son with our car and you're just now telling me about it?"

"Because I knew you would get upset like this. Especially after the argument we had just had!" Rick rushed to explain. "I thought it best if I went to check on Carl first. To see just how bad it was. And it wasn't bad at all."

"I deserved to know," Lori said, literally shaking with rage. Her slender fingers trembled as she ran her hands over her face again. "I'm his mother!"

"I know," Rick said, taking a step back and shaking his head. "I know. It's all just-"

"The thought of that woman injuring our son," Lori shook her head again. "She's like a curse to this family. All she's done is bring bad luck."

Rick didn't say anything. He stared down at the carpeted floor and ran the toe of his boot across it. Chewing his bottom lip, he deigned to speak, wary of how his wife would react. "I don't feel comfortable sending them back out there," he said. "They've come here as a precaution-"

"I don't trust her," Lori said with another shake of her head. "I don't want her here. I don't want her in our house."

"It'll only be for a couple of hours-"

A knock on the door interrupted them for a moment and they looked toward it to see Shane pushing the door open cautiously. "Ya'll, we need to get down to the basement," he said quietly.

He looked between Lori and Rick, feeling the tense atmosphere in the room. Finally, Lori stood up. "Do whatever you want," she muttered angrily to Rick as she walked around him. "That's what you're going to do anyway."

When she left the room, Shane looked curiously after her and then turned back to Rick. "What the hell is goin' on here man?" he asked.

Rick shook his head and rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to ease the stress and discomfort there. "Nothing," he said. He looked around at the steadily darkening room . "Come on," he said. "Let's get those flashlights and head down to the basement."

Shane wanted to ask Rick more questions but only shook his head and followed after him.

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Carl and Michonne were already in the basement. She looked around but could barely make out anything in the dark, windowless room. Turning her flashlight on, she scanned it slowly around to see a lone couch pushed against the wall and bare, broken shelves pushed against the back of the room. The rest of the basement was surprisingly free of clutter.

"It's surprisingly empty down here," Michonne said.

"Yeah, we don't really use the basement," Carl said. "The only reason that couch is down here is because the leg has broken off of it."

Michonne scanned the beige couch with the flashlight once again to see that it was indeed leaning to one side. "Hm."

A loud roll of thunder clapped across the sky. When Carl showed no reaction, Michonne turned her flashlight toward him. "You don't seem to be scared of tornadoes," she observed.

"I'm not," Carl said coolly. "I usually don't get scared of things like this."

"That's because you've never really experienced a tornado or seen all the damage it can do."

Carl shrugged beside her. "Maybe."

"Maybe," Michonne mimicked.

Carl laughed at the careless imitation of him; Michonne chuckled as well.

"You should go tell your mom and dad to bring candles down," Michonne instructed. "It's going to get pretty dark down here."

"Way ahead of you."

Michonne turned to see Rick making his way down with his arm full of candles and their holders. She quickly moved out of his path as he reached the bottom of the stairway. "Help me with these," he instruced. "Carl, go upstairs and help your mom and Shane with the rest of the stuff they need to bring down."

"Yes, sir." Carl made his way up the stairs while Michonne took some of the candles from the crook of his arm. After she had taken some and Rick had bent down to place the rest of them in a messy pile on the floor, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a box of matches.

"Here you go."

Michonne took the matches he held out to her and began to situate the candles in candle holders that she had placed on the floor. When they were properly set, she scratched the match against the box and began to light the wicks of the candles.

Rick set up candles on the other side of the room. They were both purposefully quiet until Michonne spoke. "Sorry," she said. "About showing up here like this. I didn't plan on it."

Rick sighed and neither turned to face each other. They just continued to light their respective candles. "Yeah," he said on a sigh. "I think we should...talk about what's going on between us..." It was the last subject he wanted to embark on but he thought it needed to be talked about.

A shiver of resistance ran through Michonne's body. "I don't think there's anything 'going on' between us," she said, striking her last match and lighting her last candle.

Rick looked over his shoulder in slight disbelief. An unlit candle was held in his hand. "It's important that we face this head on," he said, chewing on his words. Thinking carefully about what he would say next. "So that we can get past it."

Michonne didn't speak so he continued on. "I think..." he said. His heart started pounding and his face flushed. His throat closed up, not wanting to allow him to get the words out but he worked through it. "It's _clear_..." he corrected. "That I'm attracted to you."

Michonne's own heart picked up speed.

"But I also know that I love my wife."

When Michonne still didn't speak, Rick ran his teeth over his bottom lip. "Is there anything you wanna say?"

Michonne shook her head, the candlelight flickering off of her chocolate skin. "Not really," she said, her voice not betraying all of the chaos that was happening inside of her. She refused to acknowledge it. "That sounds like something you have to work through on your own." Her voice was calm but her eyes were staring wide and fearful into the darkness of the room. Rick admitting to being attracted to her should not make her feel like this. This was not part of the plan.

A derisive chuckle came from Rick's lips. He couldn't believe she was separating herself from this. "When you first met me, you told me you were attracted to me," Rick said, confused about why she was suddenly putting a wall up. "Just a few minutes ago, you were telling me that you weren't sorry about sleeping with me. And you wanted to kiss me just as much as I wanted to kiss you."

Michonne covered her heart with her hand, wishing it would stop beating. It was beating so hard it hurt. And she was sure the sound of it would alert everyone in the house to what she was feeling. Whatever she was feeling. She stood up quickly. 'He killed him,' she reminded herself. 'He killed your fiance. He's the reason your son is dead. There is nothing you feel for this man except hate.'

"I was lying," Michonne said quickly. Her voice was hard. She spoke what needed to be the truth.

"Lying about what?" Rick asked, standing up himself. The last unlit candle was still in his hand.

Michonne took her hand off of her heart, turned to Rick and risked looking at him. "Everything. I wasn't attracted to you. I was just playing around with you." She chuckled weakly and grabbed the necklace around her neck, sliding it back and forth nervously. "But now you're saying you're attracted to me..." She shook her head. "I never expected you to take it seriously."

Rick's eyes narrowed. "You were playing with me?" he asked.

Michonne's eyes flickered to the floor, before meeting his gaze and the anger there once again.

"Is this some game you always play or was it just me?"

The door to the basement opened and Shane, Andrea, Lori, and Carl all came filing in holding things that they would need.

"Whoo!" Shane said loudly and cluelessly. "This gon' be fun! Y'all ready?"

Carl closed the door behind them and save for the candles, the room descended into darkness.

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\- Things are going to start moving fast from here on out. Get ready!


	10. Chapter 10

Recap: Michonne hit Carl with her car. She almost confessed to Rick about her plan to get revenge against him. They almost shared a kiss. A tornado hit. Michonne and Andrea had to go over to the Grimes to take shelter in their basement. Now Lori, Rick, Carl, Shane, Andrea, and Michonne are all in the basement together while a storm rages outside.

 **Chapter 10: This Isn't Life**

"Sounds bad out there," Shane stated.

The sound of heavy winds and lashing rain was easily discernible to the ears from within the confines of the darkened basement where only the flickering light from candles and beams of light from flashlights provided ways for the people in the room to see.

Michonne leaned against a far wall with her arms crossed over her chest and Andrea stood nearby. Lori and Carl were sitting on the broken couch, Shane was standing on one and and Rick was standing on the other – near Lori and his son.

"Did you have a chance to sweep the neighborhood?" Rick asked Shane in the darkness. "Make sure everyone was safe and knew what to do?"

"Nah," Shane admitted. "I heard the news and came straight over here."

"And thank you for that, Shane," Lori spoke up from the couch. "You're always here when we need you."

Rick glanced at Lori, wondering if he sensed a hint of accusation in her voice or if he was just imagining it.

"No problem," Shane replied. "Rick's my brother. So you guys are just like my family."

Lori and Carl smiled up at him before Carl moved to stand from the couch. Lori held onto him, keeping him from getting up. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"To talk to Michonne."

"No, you're not. You're staying right here."

"Mom~" Carl whined.

"Mom nothing. I heard about what that woman did to you. Why didn't you come straight home the minute you realized you were okay? I was worried sick when I heard!"

Michonne looked on from where she stood leaning against the wall. Her brow furrowed at Lori's mention of her as if she were not in the same room. "I'm right here," she said. "And Carl is fine; I made sure of that. I didn't mean to hit him."

"Yeah, mom, it was an accident," Carl corroborated.

"I'm sure it was," she turned her words to Michonne. "But if you were being more careful-"

"Lori."

"What?"

Lori's snappy reply kept Rick quiet.

"Okay, wait," Shane said. "What's going on? There's been some kind of weird tension going around ever since I brought these two over." He gestured to Michonne and Andrea. "Is there something I need to know about? Do all of you not like each other?"

There was a long pause.

"I'm just askin' 'cause everyone seemed to like each other fine at the policeman's ball..." Shane continued.

"Well...fine- _ish_ ," Lori muttered.

"What's that mean?" Shane asked.

"I think everyone just needs to start being a little more direct around here," Andrea chimed in. "Because I'm just as confused as Shane is."

Carl looked between all of the adults in the room curiously. "Uhh...I don't think now's the time," Rick said, conscious of his son in the room. He glanced at Michonne, his confession from just a few moments ago still clear in his mind.

"Yeah, now's not the time," Lori said, smoothing Carl's hair down with her hand.

"But it's true that you guys have some issue you're not talking about..." Shane ventured. When he looked around the group and no one responded, he nodded. "I guess that's my answer..."

Andrea turned to Michonne and pulled her over to a far corner, away from everyone else. "Okay," she said, whispering. "What's going on? Why has that woman been glaring daggers at you ever since you walked in this house? It has to do with more than you running over her son, doesn't it?"

Michonne sighed. "There's no way I can get you to drop this, is there?"

"No. There isn't."

Before speaking the words, Michonne considered all of her other possibilities. None of them seemed as tempting as unloading some of this onto her best friend. She was starting to realize she needed someone to talk to. About everything.

"She thinks that I slept with Rick."

Andrea's mouth fell open. "Wait. What?" her blonde friend asked with a shake of her head.

"She thinks-"

"I heard you but- well, why would she think that?" Michonne was quiet, looking for the right way to say everything that she had been up to since coming to King's County. "You didn't, did you?" Andrea's voice held a muted horror. "Of course not because you wouldn't sleep with your boyfriend's killer. Right?"

"Right," Michonne admitted. "I didn't sleep with him."

"Oh, thank God," Andrea chuckled. "You had me worried-"

"But she thinks I slept with him because I want her to think that."

"...What?!"

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"So tell me what happened," Shane asked Rick. He had taken him over to his own private corner. "What is it about Michonne that's got you and Lori acting like two inflated balloons that are about ready to pop? Or is it Andrea?"

Rick placed his hands on his hip. "It's not Andrea," he responded. "We don't even know her."

"Well, Michonne then. What's the problem. You two don't like her?"

"I like her fine," Rick said with a shrug of his shoulders. He was wondering how much he should tell his best friend.

"But Lori doesn't..." Shane pushed. "Why not? I know Lori can be a little brash sometimes to people she dislikes but she's never just downright unwelcoming like this. What's going on? Is it all because of the accident?"

Rick sighed and bit his bottom lip.

"Come on man, tell me," Shane pushed again. "I think my date with Michonne went pretty well last time. If I ever want to do it again or, god forbid, get _serious_ I don't want two of my best friends being on the outs with the girl I'm dating."

Rick shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose between his two fingers. If things weren't complicated enough...

"I..." He felt like a pound of weights settled on his shoulders. "I did something really stupid."

Concern washed over Shane's face. "What? What is it?"

"I...slept with Michonne. The night of the ball. I don't know how or why it happened. I can't remember anything. I was drunk."

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"You drugged him?!" Andrea asked, shock clear in her tone.

Michonne glanced over Andrea's shoulder to make sure no one heard them. She couldn't see much in the darkened room but due to the lack of reaction, it was obvious that they were in the clear.

"I wanted to destroy his family. Like he's destroyed mine."

In that moment, Michonne was glad it was dark so that she couldn't see the disappointed look on Andrea's face.

"So you want them to divorce? Or you want Lori to get so angry that she tries to kill Rick herself? Like those old married store owners you told me about?"

"No! Of course not," Michonne replied. "I just...don't want him to be happy. When I'm not."

"And what happens when they're broken up?" Andrea asked. "Or when they're unhappy? What about Carl?"

Michonne rubbed her temples. "I couldn't think about Carl. I was thinking about Andre."

"Andre's dead."

Michonne snapped her eyes up to meet Andrea's.

"I'm just saying!" her friend argued. "You can't punish an innocent child over the mistakes of his father!"

"That wasn't my intention."

"It may not have been your intention, but it's inevitable. Whatever happens to Rick will affect Carl."

"I know that! But I've already done this! Lori already blames him for cheating! What do you suggest I do."

"Tell them the truth."

Andrea didn't even have to be able to see her friend's face clearly to read her reluctance. "What?" Andrea asked.

"What if he really deserves this? What if he really killed Mike for no reason other than him being in the wrong place at the wrong time...and the wrong color."

Andrea placed her hand on Michonne's arm. "The fact that you're even asking 'what if' tells me that you aren't sure. You're never unsure. Your gut tells you everything you need to know and you usually trust it. What does your gut tell you about Rick? Does he seem like that kind of person?"

"...No..." Michonne reluctantly admitted.

Andrea nodded.

"But what if my gut is wrong this time?" Michonne asked. "As much as Rick _seems_ innocent, I can't shake the feeling that things didn't play out as they should have at that crime scene. We have to talk to this Merle guy..."

"And until we do that, you're not going to let up on Rick, are you?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Michonne thought about Rick leaning in to kiss her. She thought about him confessing an attraction to her. Her skin grew hot. "He's dangerous," she replied.

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Rick reached his hand out to grip Shane's arm. To stop him from pacing. "Shane-"

"No," Shane said, avoiding Rick's hand and holding his own hands up to keep Rick from touching him. "You have..." Shane chuckled dryly even though he found nothing humorous. "You have always been the upstanding one. The one guys like me aspire to be." Rick's eyes went to the floor. "What happened man? You have _never_ betrayed Lori. And-and what about Carl? Oh man, this is-"

"It's bad," Rick said, knowing full well how bad it was. "Lori and I were already having problems. I don't know if we'll be able to survive this."

"And Michonne?" Shane whispered. "She doesn't remember anything either?"

"No," Rick replied. "She doesn't."

"That doesn't sound right," Shane said. "How can neither of you remember anything? As long as I've known you, I've never known you to be the type to forget things after getting drunk. Even after I talked you into guzzling from a keg in college. You remember that?"

Rick nodded. He had thought about that. That this was the first time he had blacked out after getting drunk. "I guess it's age," he said with a shrug.

Shane shook his head. "I just can't believe this. Somethin' ain't right."

"Well, it happened," Rick said. "I wish it didn't but it did. And I can't place responsibility on anybody or any _thing_ but myself. This is my fault."

"...How are you going to fix it?" Shane asked Rick, finally having stopped pacing to face him.

"I don't know. _Can_ I fix it?" Rick glanced at Shane and shifted on his feet. "And what about you? I know it wasn't serious but you were interested in her. Are things gonna be okay between us?"

"Honestly man, I'm still tryin' ta get over my indignation on Lori and Carl's behalf. I haven't even reached my own yet. And that's just me bein' straight with ya."

Rick nodded, feeling terrible that he had damaged two of his closest relationships.

"But nothin' can keep me from bein' your friend man. We've been through too much together. Been friends and partners on the force for too long. This is just gonna take...me wrappin' my head around a few things."

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"Wait here, sweetie, okay?"

Lori vacated the broken sofa she was sitting on with Carl to approach the two women in the darkened corner. She squinted so that she could make them out. "Hi," she said to Andrea when she reached them. "Can you give us a moment please?"

Andrea looked to Michonne who nodded.

"Okay," Andrea said. "I'll go over there and read comics with Carl." She mouthed a word of encouragement to Michonne and then went over to Carl, grabbing a beaming flashlight from its place on the arm of the sofa as she went.

"Whoa, what is Lori doin'?" Shane asked Rick.

Rick, who had already taken notice of Lori's movement, watched with tension in his body. "I don't know," he said.

"I don't know either," Shane said. "But knowing Lori, we should just let it play out. She won't rest until she gets this off her chest and says what she needs to."

Rick watched with concern clear on his features. This was all his fault. The guilt he felt was enormous.

The storm continued to rage outside.

Lori faced Michonne, her arms folded across her chest. The two women just stared at each other for a period of time. Lori finally spoke. "How did it happen?" she asked.

"What?" Michonne asked, surprised by the question.

"I want to know..." Lori took a shaky breath. "Exactly what happened after I left that night."

"Hasn't your husband told you?"

"He told me some. But he doesn't remember everything."

"Yeah, well, neither do I..."

"Tell me what you _do_ remember then."

"I don't know. We were talking, we danced, we went out to the porch and had a few drinks. Then we were waking up in bed-"

Lori held her hand up, not needing to hear the rest. "You danced?" she asked.

"Sure. Why not," Michonne responded shortly. "Is there a reason you're asking me all these questions? Are you trying to check our stories against each other or something?"

Lori squared her shoulders. "Rick has never been unfaithful to me before. He's never blacked out after having too much to drink. Why would this suddenly change after you show up?"

"Is there something you're trying to say?"

Lori didn't hesitate to ask her next question. "Did you purposefully get my husband into bed with you?"

Michonne kept her expression stoic, though she was slightly surprised by the question. She spoke after a small pause. "That's not important to you. What's important is that he was in my bed at all. Because of all the faults of your husband, you never expected infidelity to be one of them did yo-?"

"Stay away. From my family." Lori warned between gritted teeth, cutting Michonne off. Michonne's words had pushed her buttons.

Michonne was about to respond but a very loud crashing sound caused everyone to jump and look around.

"What was that?" Lori asked.

Andrea stood from her spot on the sofa and Carl went over to his father. Lori followed. "I don't know," Rick replied, moving towards the stairs. The proximity of the sound caused him to worry. "Maybe I should check it out." He threw a glance over his shoulder to get Shane's opinion.

"No," Lori said. "Let's just stay down here until the storm is over. That was the plan."

"What if one of the neighbor's homes got damaged and they need help?" Rick asked. "I've gotta go."

"The neighbors are fine!" Lori snapped, worried for Rick and her son. "You can't save everyone Rick. But you can be here for _us_. Now. We need you!"

Rick stared down at his wife with compassion. He knew that she was right. He needed to stay here with his family. But there was something telling him that whatever that sound was needed to be investigated. He looked at Shane.

"I'll go," Shane said with a nod. Ten plus years of service together and almost a lifetime of friendship had given him the ability to know his friend's thoughts without having to ask. "I'll be back in a minute."

"I'll go with you," Michonne said as Shane began to make his way up the stairs. She needed to find some kind of freedom from the basement no matter how brief the freedom was. She grabbed a flashlight and walked up the stairs after the hot-headed friend of Rick Grimes.

They had just closed the door to the basement and began to make their way down the hall toward the living area when Shane began to speak. "Rick just tol' me what's goin' on between all o' you."

"What do you mean?" Michonne asked.

"You and Rick. After the ball."

Michonne nodded but refused to do more than that since she wasn't sure where this was headed.

"Rick's never been the kind o' guy to do what he's sayin' he's done. And man...I gotta say, it's eatin' him up."

A dry chuckle left Michonne's throat. Two different people. The same tactic. "Are you implying that I coerced him into bed somehow?"

"I'm not implyin' anything," Shane said with a shrug. "I'm just lettin' you know..." He turned to Michonne and stopped, placing his hand on her arm so that she would stop along with him. "Those two people in there are my best friends." He maintained eye contact. "And I look after Carl like he's my own. If you do anything to hurt _either_ of them...I won't go easy."

There was no room for interpretation in any of what Shane said. His words were pretty clear. Michonne nodded. "You don't have to worry," she said without batting an eyelash. "I'm not out to hurt anyone." She moved past him. "Now let's go find where that noise came from."

Temporarily tamped by her answer, Shane followed after Michonne only to stop short when she did. "What is it?" he asked, slightly irritated since he had almost run into her due to her sudden lack of movement.

"Smoke," Michonne said, pointing.

Shane followed the direction of her finger and saw smoke billowing up out from the entrance to the kitchen. He hurried forward and saw a terrifying sight.

A fire could be seen outside the window, licking the outside of the house. A downed power line gave him an idea of how the fire had started. He rushed back into the living room to see a wide-eyed Michonne. She had obviously just come to the conclusion that he had come to.

"Fire," he said.

They both rushed back to the basement and threw open the door.

"The house is on fire," Shane said without hesitation. And immediate panic ensued. Michonne inwardly wondered why a policeman of many years didn't know how to impart news with the least amount of panic but she didn't have time to snark about it. She was in panic mode herself.

"The winds from the tornado will probably make the flames bigger within minutes," she said. "It's good that we went and checked when we did."

"Should we try to put it out?" Andrea asked.

"What was the cause of it?" Rick asked.

"Mom..." Carl stuck close to Lori's side.

"Power lines are down," Shane said, answering Rick's question. "A strong wind must have taken it down. Or lightning."

"That would explain the loud noise," Andrea said.

"I think we need to get out of here first," Shane said. "Then we can think of our next course of action. We couldn't tell how big the flames were from inside but I don't want to take the chance that they're more than we can handle. Like Michonne said...the crazy winds aren't going to help anything."

Rick didn't need to hear anything more. "Let's go."

"Should we grab anything?" Lori asked fearfully as they made their way up the stairs, out of the basement, and out of the house. "What if the house burns down."

"Then at least we'll be safe," Rick replied. "That's what's important."

He wrapped his hand around Lori's and Lori gripped his hand in return. Michonne noticed this. The bond between them was still there. Even after everything. Michonne wondered if everything she had done had ultimately been for naught.

But then again if Rick wasn't behind Mike's unjust death, she should be happy that she wasn't succeeding in coming between him and his wife. Shouldn't she?


	11. Chapter 11

\- Hi everyone! I'm finally posting an update to this fic! Another "In a Different World" update should be coming soon! Also, if you haven't already, please check out the new TWD discussion site tellittothedeadDOTcom. That's Tell it to the Dead . com. A lot of Richonners are no longer on Spoil the Dead because we've been banned. Hope to see you there! And I hope you enjoy the update! -

Warning: Racial slur used in this chapter

Recap: Everyone was trapped in the basement during a coming tornado. Shane warned Michonne against messing with his friend's life.

Chapter 11

"Looks like I overreacted."

Everyone stared down at the flames that were already starting to flicker out pitifully. Shane had been right about a power line coming down and the sparks from it igniting a fire but the fire had been much less fearsome than everyone had feared. It was practically embers in a bush.

Rick sighed in relief. "Better that you overreacted than to have there be an actual disaster." He clapped Shane on the shoulder.

They were shouting over the loud winds that were still pushing through the town, seeming to make it difficult for even the nearby trees to hold their ground.

"Does this mean electricity is going to be out even longer now?" Carl asked, his hair whipping around his face.

"Probably so, son."

"Aw man. I just got that new video game."

Rick chuckled, glad that all his son had to worry about was when he could start moving levels on his new game. "Well, you're just gonna have to wait to play it. You have plenty of comics to read through until then."

"I've read those comics a million times..." Carl said, kicking dirt up with his shoe.

"Hey." Michonne punched his arm lightly. "Just be grateful your house didn't burn down, kid."

Carl's face flushed red with embarrassment as he realized how he must sound. They had just had a major crisis scare and he was complaining about comics and a video game like an immature little boy.

Lori pulled Carl over to her side and rubbed his arm comfortingly.

Michonne took in the perfect family image that the Grimes made. Her eyes traveled from the kid being held by his mother to Lori and Rick holding hands. She turned away and watched the last of the small fire in the bush go out.

"Well, let's go back inside," Shane shouted. "The storm's still very much under way!"

Everyone began to follow him back inside except for Michonne. "Actually...I have to grab something from my office," she shouted over the winds. "You guys go on without me; I'll be right there."

Everyone looked at her curiously and hesitated. "It's not something you can grab later?" Rick asked.

Michonne shook her head. "You guys go ahead."

The group shared glances. "...Okay." Rick took the flashlight from Shane's hand and handed it to her. "Get back within twenty minutes or someone will come looking for you."

"I'll actually go with you," Andrea said, walking to Michonne's side. Rick nodded and Michonne didn't object.

The two women went to Michonne's office while everyone else went back inside and to the basement.

When they were inside Michonne's office, Michonne wasted no time in sliding to the floor and placing her head in her hands. After closing the door to block out the sound of the howling winds outside, Andrea took notice of Michonne. "What are you doing? What's wrong?" she asked, going to her friend.

"I don't know what I'm doing anymore," Michonne admitted quietly when she felt Andrea slide down beside her. She lifted her head and stared into the darkness of the office. Andrea rubbed slow, comforting circles across Michonne's back as she continued. "Have you ever had the feeling that you're at a crossroads where things can go one way and change things drastically for the better...or things can go another way and make things so much worse."

Andrea nodded. "I know you may not want my advice on this matter," she said quietly. "But my honest opinion is that maybe you should stop here. There's so much more involved here than getting revenge on Rick. There's Carl. And Lori too."

"That makes so much sense when I hear it," Michonne said. "But even more scary than the two roads that lead to change is the road that leads straight ahead. Where everything stays the same. I don't want things to stay the same. They _can't_ stay the same." There was a long silence and Andrea knew exactly who Michonne was talking about when her voice broke with the next words. "I miss him so much. I hate feeling like this."

Andrea sighed and her heart broke for her friend.

"I get it," Andrea said. "You need some sort of closure."

She suddenly stood up and Michonne watched her go to the desk and begin to open drawers. "What are you doing?" Michonne asked.

"Looking for Merle's contact information," Andrea replied. "You have it around here somewhere, don't you?"

Michonne stood up from the floor and went to her desk where she pulled out the bottom drawer. Andrea aimed the flashlight she brought along at the contents of the drawer while Michonne pulled them out. She extracted a folded piece of paper from between the newspaper clippings about Rick and the incident from almost a year ago.

"This is his address and his phone number," Michonne said, handing the piece of paper to Andrea. "I've tried to call him before but he never answers."

Andrea took the piece of paper and read the address. It looked like he stayed maybe an hour outside of town. "Do you wanna go?" Andrea asked.

"Right now?" Michonne asked, slightly taken aback.

"When the storm clears up a bit," Andrea said. "But as soon as possible. It's time you learned what really happened. Or else you'll never be able to move on from it."

At that moment, Michonne couldn't have been more grateful to have Andrea as a friend. "Thank you," she said.

"Don't mention it," Andrea said, shrugging off Michonne's sentimental gratitude. "What are friends for?" She folded the piece of paper again and put it into her pants pocket. "Now tell me...what did you need to get from your office? Or was it just an excuse for you to break away from everyone and have a quick cry?"

Michonne smiled. "No; I really came to get something." She opened another one of her drawers and pulled out a picture of Andre, flashing it to Andrea so that she could see what it was. "Just in case..." She placed the small picture in her pocket. "Okay," she said. "I guess I'm ready to go."

"Let's go."

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They arrived back in the basement to find Shane and Lori deep in conversation about something while Rick paced the floor. Carl was reading comics by candlelight.

"Oh, good. You two are back," Rick said as Andrea and Michonne descended the staircase. Michonne couldn't help but to wonder why he chose to put the weight of everyone else's well-being on his own shoulders. It was something she had quickly discerned about him when she first began to know him. "I think it's starting to hail. That's never a good sign."

"Yeah, we almost got brained on our way back," Andrea said. "A tornado really might come through."

Lori and Shane stopped chatting. The expression on Lori's face was clearly a frightened one. She wrapped her arms around herself.

"Carl," she called. "Stop reading those comics; you're going to strain your eyes."

"Aw, mom, let me just finish this issue."

"You said that with the last one. No. Put them away."

Carl tsked. "Dad."

"Listen to your mother, Carl," Rick advised.

"Man," Carl complained, closing his comic. "You guys are no fun." He threw the comic aside haphazardly and it hit the floor.

"That's because 'us guys' are your parents," Lori said. "And we want what's best for you so it's better to listen to what we say."

Shane started to move forward to do his "fun uncle" repair routine on Carl's mood but he stopped going forward when he saw that someone else was already moving in to repair the damage.

Michonne picked the comic book up off of the floor and went to sit on the couch with Carl. "This is a good one," she said, looking at the cover. "It really is a crime if you don't get to finish it. Good thing I happen to have 20/20 vision, so I can risk losing a little of that to get you to the last page of the story. I'll read it to you."

Michonne was about to begin reading but she didn't have a chance to. "Carl," Lori called. "Over here. Now."

"Mom~!" Carl whined.

"I don't want to hear it. Get over here. You'll have to read your comic later."

Michonne reluctantly closed the comic and handed it over to Carl. "Too bad little man. Mom's word is law." She gave a sympathetic nudge to his head before he tsked and stomped away from the couch. But he didn't go to stand next to his mom and dad. He went to a corner by himself.

Michonne sighed and felt the seat cushion sink as Andrea came to sit down beside her. "That woman has no love for _you,_ " Andrea mumbled beneath her breath. "But given what she thinks happened between you and her husband, it's to be expected."

Michonne turned to Andrea with a dry smirk. "I'm just ready for this bad weather to pass. So I can finally get some answers."

"And then hopefully come back to civilization with your best friend?"

Michonne chuckled. "So you don't think Rick did anything wrong?"

"I hope not. Just so you can have some peace."

Michonne smiled. "Okay," she agreed. "If I find out that Rick wasn't involved in Mike's death, I'll give this up and go back with you."

"Good."

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The storm raged hard outside, but the people gathered in Rick Grimes' basement were safe. In fact, most of them had fallen asleep as the storm waged around them. But two people were awake.

Rick had seen Michonne's shadowed form moving restlessly in the now dim candlelight for that last few hours. Now he watched as she stood; it seemed as if she was headed for the stairway. Rick spoke up in a gravelly whisper, "Where are you going?"

She didn't seem surprised to hear his voice so Rick knew she must have noticed that he had stayed awake as well. "I think the worst of it is over," she whispered back. "I was going to go see if there was any damage."

Rick had hoped to put off scoping out the damage himself. He was afraid of seeing the town he loved and the town he worked so hard to protect possibly in shambles. He gingerly got to his feet, careful not to wake Lori who was sleeping beside him. "I'll go with you," he said to Michonne, grabbing a flashlight and making his way toward her.

He saw the hesitation in Michonne's body and knew she wasn't fully welcoming of the idea. But he ignored that and followed her up the stairs when she started moving again.

They left the basement to find that the house seemed untouched. And outside, they found that the road was scattered with leaves, branches and trash from overturned trash cans but none of the buildings seemed damaged on first look. "Looks like it just missed us," Rick said, breaking the silence they had been walking in.

"Thankfully," Michonne replied. She walked to her office and looked inside. It was indeed still in the condition it had been in before the storm. She walked inside and Rick followed her.

Rick chewed on his bottom lip. He had something to say, but he knew broaching the subject would be awkward as hell. But he finally gathered courage and spoke. "You know..." he said. "What I said earlier. In the basement...I don't know what had gotten into me. My wife and I had been arguing and then there was this storm and...I don't know. I said something I shouldn't have."

Michonne didn't turn to look at Rick as he fumbled through an explanation. "You don't have to explain anything to me," she said, turning back around to exit again after giving the office a once-over and seeing that nothing was majorly out of place. She stood in front of Rick and faced him. "I told you...I don't care."

Rick fought the strange feeling of frustration that welled up in his chest. "Right," he said with a nod. "Then...good. I'm glad there are no misunderstandings."

Michonne nodded. "Yep. None."

She began to walk out of the room when Rick spoke again. "But-" he said, stopping her in her tracks. "I was just curious why you did this in the first place. Why you put on this act of being attracted to me. Is that just your way of having fun, or...?"

Rick saw the tension in her shoulders; he knew she just wanted to leave the office and leave this conversation as well. "I guess, yeah," she said impatiently. "It was just my way of having fun."

Rick nodded. He thought back and realized she had also flirted with Shane heavily from the very beginning. This really was just probably the type of woman that she was. "Great," he said, the muscles in his jaw clenching. "Good to know."

"Can we get back to seeing what damage we have to deal with now?"

"You know what?" Rick said, swallowing heavily. "I think I'm just gonna go back. Get Shane and have him help me organize a town clean-up."

"Okay. Great," Michonne replied.

"Great."

Rick and Michonne separated at the door of the office and he watched her walk off down the road, angry with himself for allowing himself to be played with as a married man and as a father.

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Michonne and Andrea walked amongst the mobile homes looking for one in particular. The Dixons' mobile home.

They had set off in Andrea's jeep at around noon after changing and after most of the other town residents had gotten busy clearing the street of the debris left over from the storm. Michonne had felt the eyes of some of the townspeople probably wondering why she and her friend were skimping out on cleanup, but she didn't have time to worry about that. She was too anxious to hear what this Merle Dixon might have to say.

Plus, she was still thinking about what Rick had said to her before the storm and after. For some reason, she couldn't stop thinking about it.

"We're here," Andrea said, breaking into Michonne's thoughts. Michonne was glad for the reprieve.

"Oh God," she said, upon seeing the place. It was overrun with objects littering the area around the mobile home and a Confederate flag was draped haphazardly in the window.

"You sure you want to deal with this?" Andrea asked out of the side of her mouth.

Michonne responded by going forward and knocking on the door. "We have to," she replied.

It didn't take long for the door to swing open and a burly man with a bald head and a sparse beard filled the doorway. Michonne knew from pictures she had seen from the case report that this man was indeed Merle Dixon. "Hi," she said, looking up at him. "Merle Dixon?"

Merle's eyes dragged up and down her body, making her wish she had dressed more formally than a white tank top and blue jeans. "Who wants to know?" he asked.

"My partner and I," she gestured toward Andrea who walked forward. "Would like to talk to you about a case you were involved with. A drug deal that resulted in the death of a Mike Rivers?"

The teasing smirk fell off of Merle's face and his expression grew hard. His hand gripped the door as if he was one step away from closing it directly in their faces. His eyes went between the two women. "You cops?"

"No," Andrea said. "We're not. We just came to ask you a few questions. We're friends of the victim."

Merle continued to stare suspiciously between the two of them. "I don't trust anybody who comes askin' around about some dead fella. Why don't you go talk to the cops? I'm sure they'll tell you everything."

He started to close the door, but Michonne blocked it with her hand.

"We've heard what the cops had to say," Michonne said. "Now we want to hear what you have to say."

Merle was quiet and then slowly began to chuckle. "You two must think I'm stupid," he said in his gruff voice. "Who are you really and what makes you think I would talk to you about anything?"

Michonne sighed, realizing that she was getting nowhere. And this was taking too long for her liking. She pulled out a wad of cash from her pocket and held it up so that Merle could see it. His tongue darted out against his dry lips and his expression turned to one of interest.

"...What do you want to know?" Merle asked.

"I just want to know what happened that day..." Michonne said. "In your words."

Merle stared at them, seemingly deep in thought. "I don't snitch," he finally said. "Especially not on cops."

Michonne felt her heart-rate increase. She and Andrea looked at each other. It seemed like their suspicions had some weight to them after all. Michonne reached into her pocket and pulled out another wad of cash.

Merle licked his lips again.

"...Come on in," he finally said.

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" _All I know is this guy called me in the middle of the night askin' if I had anything. He musta heard 'bout me from someone else 'cause I'm practically the only seller in this nothin'-ass town. I didn't question it. I just scraped together what I hadn't used yet and told him I'd meet him the next day."_

Michonne applied a coat of lipstick to her lips.

" _The guy meets me. Some darkie...what? Does that offend you? Fine. Some COLORED man then...that better? Don't know what to call y'all these days...Anyway. He meets me and it's same old, same old. The drugs are in his hand when lights come up, blindin' as hell. They always shine 'em right in your eyes. I got my hands up; they're empty. I knew they musta just been waitin' there ready to bust me or somethin'. Setback to bein' the only seller around these parts. Everyone knows where they're getting' the good."_

Michonne pulled her hair back into a ponytail and studied herself in the mirror. Her facial expression was set and hard.

" _I point to the colored man-"_

" _Mike."_

" _MIKE. And I say, 'Don't look at me. He's the one holdin'. I ain't got nothin'."_

Michonne smoothed her form-fitting purple dress down one more time before she decided she was ready to leave the house.

" _The two cops tell us to put our hands up. My hands are already up. Mike doesn't wanna put his hands up 'cause he's holdin' a bag of stuff. So the cops keep shoutin' it. 'Put your hands up.' 'Put your hands up.'"_

Michonne leaves her house and walks up the street. The streets are now clean of the debris left over from the storm. The residents of King County made quick work of the clean up. Michonne wasn't surprised. It seemed that they were used to banding together to take care of messes that besmirched their town.

" _At this point I just mumble to him out the side of my mouth you know. 'Just put your hands up.' 'Cause I didn't need him makin' no trouble for me. Instead he keeps shiftin' around until finally he decides to try to put what he's holdin' in his pocket. Big mistake. A bullet took him out 'fore I could even blink."_

Michonne knocked on the door of Rick's house, the house she had been holed up in the night before, wondering if she was making a mistake by messing with the life of this man.

" _It was all pretty much 'Murder She Wrote' after that. They cleaned up the body. Officer who shot him got reprimanded. I went to a holdin' cell. Got out. And that's it."_

" _That's it? No one asked any questions about the dead man who hadn't even been holding any weapons?"_

" _Nah. Like I said. Officer got reprimanded. Maybe got a couple days off. I was there when it happened. But they basically just chalked it up to him havin' reason to shoot. The officer said he thought he was gonna draw a weapon. Thought he was defendin' his life."_

" _Who was this officer? Was it Rick?"_

" _I don't know no names! How many more questions I gotta answer?"_

" _Did the man have dark brown hair? Blue eyes?"_

" _Nah. It was the other one who shot him. Had black hair. Blue Steel was wit' him though. They were there together."_

The door opened to reveal Rick and Shane Walsh. Rage built in Michonne's stomach as she looked into the faces of her husband's killer and his partner but she kept it under control. "Hey," she said, spreading a smile across her face. "Am I late?"

" _Did either of them seem very shaken up about what had happened?"_

" _Psh. Nah. A nigger getting shot in King's County? Nobody cares."_

"You're right on time," Shane said with a wide grin. "Come in. We've been expecting you."

"I doubt that," Michonne muttered, walking into the house.

" _I guess this means you won't be coming back home with me," Andrea said, when they left Merle's mobile home, who was happy with the two hundred dollars he had just earned._

" _No, I won't," Michonne answered, her blood boiling. "I'm going back to King's County. And they're going to get what's coming to them. Both of them."_

 _Andrea sighed. "Please don't do anything that you'll regret, Mich."_

" _I won't. I promise. I won't regret a thing."_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: Well, Come On Then**

Shane's home was rugged, masculine, and unapologetic – much like the man himself. Michonne looked around at the mounted fish and deer head on his wall. 'Oh, so he's one of those,' she thought, not quite surprised. She finished downing a glass of champagne and sat it on the table, immediately filling it again from the chilled champagne bottle that sat in a bucket of ice.

"Havin' fun?" Shane's voice asked from behind her.

She tried not to let the anger in her being spill out through her voice. "Great time," she said, turning to Shane. She lifted her refilled champagne glass in a half-hearted salute.

"Good strategy, skippin' out on the town clean-up," Shane said, crossing his arms in front of him. His gaze held amusement so Michonne knew that he was being lighthearted with her. This made her angrier still. She chose not to reply; instead she took another drink of alcohol. "Figured I'd treat the town on behalf of their hard work," Shane continued, gesturing around at the people gathered in his living room. "Don't know why I should be treating you, though." He gave Michonne a quick once-over. She was dressed in a fancy white, sleeveless top with a peplum bottom that fell over leather pants and ended right above her ankles. The look ended in tall, black heels that hugged her feet.

Michonne smirked. The man didn't even try to be subtle.

"Where's Andrea?" Shane asked, bringing his eyes back up to meet hers but biting his bottom lip between his teeth as if he was imagining the taste of her.

"She went back to Atlanta," Michonne replied.

' _It was the other one that shot him. Had black hair. Blue Steel was wit' him though.'_ Michonne remembered Merle's words. She took another large drink.

"Already?" Shane asked. "It musta been nice to have your friend around. Someone familiar."

"I'm becoming familiar with the people here..." Michonne responded.

"Oh yeah?" Shane asked. "Doesn't seem like it. You're always off by yourself doin' God knows what."

Michonne downed her drink again and then sat the empty glass down on the table next to her. She swallowed the slightly bitter liquid down and swallowed her anger along with it. Anger wouldn't help her right now. That would come later. For now, she needed to find out his weaknesses. 'Should be easy enough...'

She faced Shane and turned a smile on him. "Why are you worried about it?" she asked. "You offering to keep me company?"

Shane's smile widened. "Well, I've never minded keeping a beautiful woman company."

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Rick's eyes observed Michonne and Shane over Lori's shoulder. He had his wife pressed closely to his chest and danced slowly with her. They had been quite sweet to each other after the tornado ordeal. Rick was beginning to think Lori could actually forgive him and they could move forward. Maybe their marriage could be saved after all.

He tore his eyes away from the obvious flirtation that was happening between Michonne and Shane and closed his eyes, focusing instead on his wife's scent. It was the first time since he had been released from the hospital that she was allowing him close.

Lori seemed to be thinking the same thing. "I missed this..." she said.

"I did too..." Rick responded.

They pulled away to look into each other's eyes. Rick kept her close to him by continuing to hold her with his uninjured arm. They rotated slowly, swaying gently to the music.

A gentle smile was on Lori's face and Rick thought it was nice. He hoped things could stay 'nice' like this for a while longer. For forever if it was possible. But the smile faded when Lori's eyes slid past Rick.

Rick knew who she had taken notice of. He started her in another rotation so that she could face away from Michonne again.

"Every time I turn around, she's there," Lori said.

Rick sighed. "I know..." he said. "I'm sorry."

"I mean, am I going to have to get used to seeing her around? How am I supposed to get used to just passing her in the street after-?" She glanced at Rick and stopped talking. "I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I shouldn't be talking about this now. We're having a good time."

"No, it's okay," Rick said. "I feel horrible for putting you in this situation."

Lori stared with sympathy at her husband. She wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault, but she couldn't. Instead she just squared her chin. "It's a small town," she said. "I guess I'll just have to get used to it." She sighed and turned over her shoulder. "I just hope Shane knows what he's doing. Passing her in the street is one thing...having to sit down to dinner with her is another. I can't say I'd be okay if a friend of ours started dating her."

Rick looked over at them. Shane reached out to touch Michonne's arm, sliding his hand gently from her elbow to her forearm. He was definitely putting on the moves. Rick tore his eyes away once again.

"She's off-putting to me," Lori continued.

Rick nodded. "Maybe we shouldn't talk about Michonne, hmm?"

"No, did I tell you what she told me at the Policeman's Ball?"

"No," Rick answered.

"I had put it out of my mind until just now- she told me that she recognized you from the news."

"What news?"

"The news about your scandal last year."

Rick stopped dancing. "What?" he asked. Images of that night came to his mind. "Why did she tell you that?"

"I don't know. But she seemed weird about it. Really upset. I thought she had possibly moved down here to get some dirt on you or something, but that doesn't seem to be the case. There's nothing she could gain. Why would she be interested in bringing up a case long past?"

Rick looked over at Michonne again. This time she looked back. Their gazes held for a while then she raised her glass in greeting before turning back to Shane.

"But whatever she's here for," Lori said. "It's like she brought bad luck. Nothing good has happened since she's come to town."

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"You know, we got off to a good start," Shane said. "But things got rocky there in the middle...you know, when you slept with my married best friend?" He stepped closer to Michonne. "But maybe we can start over..." He stroked his forefinger along her arm. Michonne tried to keep a retch at bay. She was saved when she heard the ringtone chime from her cell phone.

"Excuse me," she said before hurrying off.

She made her way from the party to a long, empty hallway. The walls seemed to tilt, but she kept herself upright by pressing her hand against it and walking along the wall that way. Looking down at her cell phone screen, she saw that she was getting a call from her father. She sighed and leaned her forehead against the wooden surface of the paneling and let the rest of her weight follow. She thought about ignoring the call and just going back to deal with Shane again, but she answered the phone and brought it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Andrea told me what's going on," he greeted.

Michonne's brow furrowed. Andrea wouldn't have told him what she was doing there...would she?

"She told me you're in some nowhere town in Georgia... _healing_."

Michonne gave a silent sigh of relief. She knew she could trust Andrea. She didn't need her father knowing what she was up to. He wouldn't understand anyway.

"Is that what you amount to?" he continued to speak through the earpiece, his voice stern. "You run away to Hicksville to lick your wounds over some boy who was never worth your time in the first place?"

Michonne sighed. No matter how old she got or how successful she became, her father always had a way of making her feel like a child again. "It's not just over 'some boy'. I lost my son. Remember him?"

There was silence for a moment. "And how is running away to play farmer supposed to bring him back? I thought I raised you to be stronger than this. I'm trying to build something here. A legacy. And you're a part of that legacy because you're my blood."

Michonne didn't respond.

"Come back to Atlanta. It's not a request."

"And if I don't?" Michonne asked.

"I'm cutting you off. I'm wiping your name off of everything. Your name will no longer be associated with mine, your office will no longer be waiting for you. Our relationship will be done. You're no longer a child, Michonne. You don't get to cry and have anyone come to make it better. You cry now and guess what...no one cares. So suck it up." He hung up the phone.

Michonne shook with repressed rage. "I'm not crying," she said into the silent mouthpiece. "And I don't need you."

She dropped her phone to the floor and continued to make her way down the hall, away from the noise of the party. She continued to use the wall for a little added support. She came to a room at the end of the hall and stood at the closed door. This was probably the master bedroom.

Michonne turned the knob and opened the door. It creaked open and she walked in.

The room was different than the rest of the house. The walls were covered in white paneling – different than the wood of the living room. There was some baseball memorabilia and some awards gained as an officer of the law. A large television sat against the wall across from the bed and it was surrounded by an entertainment system housing at least three different video game consoles and multiple DVDs. This was definitely the room of a single man.

Michonne walked inside and left the door slightly ajar.

The room was still slightly tilting but Michonne still managed to observe items in the room. "Okay, Shane," she mumbled to herself. "What do you love?" With Rick, the idea had come easy. Separate the family man from his family. But what was she supposed to do about a man who didn't seem to have a family?

There were no personal photos on the walls or on the dressers.

Michonne opened the top drawer of Shane's nightstand. Her eyebrows lifted when she finally saw something of interest. It was a framed photo of Shane, Rick, and Lori. 'Weird,' she thought. 'Why is it in the drawer?' She studied the picture. Lori was in the middle laughing with Rick and Shane on either side of her. Rick was laughing along to whatever joke had been spoken off-camera, but Shane wasn't laughing. He was gazing at...Lori.

"Oh my God," Michonne said. "Of course."

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With Lori engaged in a conversation with some of the other women from King County, Rick approached Shane. "Where'd Michonne go?" he asked.

"Hey, man," Shane greeted. "Uhh..." He looked around the room. "I don't know. She had to take a phone call. I've been waiting for her to get back myself. Why?"

Rick shrugged. "Lori's worried about how serious you're planning to get with her," he said. "Says she doesn't want to sit down and have dinner with her if you two become a thing."

Shane glanced over at Lori who was deep in conversation and then turned his attention back to Rick. He chuckled. "Man...I'm just havin' fun," he said. "You know me. I got this under control."

"Be careful," Rick responded. "I don't know if Michonne's the type to be played with. In fact, she might be the one playing with _you_."

Shane laughed again. "This because of what happened with you?" he asked. "Don't worry, man. Me and you...we're different. I can handle her." He paused. "You don't mind, do you? If I date her?"

"No," Rick said. "I mean...like Lori says, any group dinners would be uncomfortable, but...just be careful..." Rick was still thinking about what Lori had told him. Michonne had never indicated that she recognized him when they were alone together. Why would she hide the fact that she knew him? It was possible that she didn't want to bring up what might be a touchy subject, but...there was something strange about it.

"I will," Shane responded. "Are things good between you and Lori? You seem to be having a good time."

"Yeah," Rick said, pushing thoughts of Michonne out of his mind. "Yeah, we might- we might be able to get past this."

"There was a time when you thought you wouldn't?"

"There was a time when I considered the possibility...yeah."

Shane nodded and took a drink of his alcohol. "I'm glad things are working out for you, man."

Rick took a breath. "Yeah, me too."

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000

A few moments later, Rick left the party to go to the bathroom. It was located on the right side of the hall leading further into the house. He closed the door, used the bathroom, and then paused in front of the mirror after washing his hands.

"Things are working out..."

He dried his hands and left the bathroom. He was about to go back towards the party, but a prone figure lying on the floor of Shane's bedroom caught his eye. He squinted, wondering if he was seeing what he thought he was and closer inspection told him it was so. He walked down the hall and pushed the slightly ajar door further open. Michonne was lying on the carpeted floor in her outfit and heels. Her eyes were open and staring at the ceiling. She glanced over when the door squeaked on its hinges.

"Michonne?" Rick asked. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Michonne answered, turning to look back at the ceiling. "Just drunk."

"Do you need someone to take you home?" Rick asked.

"No."

Rick looked around. "You know, you probably shouldn't be in Shane's room..."

"Yeah, I probably shouldn't..." She rolled over onto her side and propped her head up onto her hand. "How long have you and Shane been friends?"

Rick shrugged, non-plussed by the sudden question. "Since we were kids. Why?"

"And you met Lori in high school?"

Rick crossed his arm over his other arm and stared at Michonne curiously. "Yeah," he said. "Why?"

"Just trying to get to know you better..." Michonne pushed herself up to a sitting position and leaned against the foot of the bed.

"Looked like you were getting to know _Shane_ out there."

"Yeah..." Michonne smirked. "I'm getting to know him too."

"Why?" Rick asked.

Michonne chuckled. "Why?" she repeated. "Are you asking what my intentions are with your best friend?"

"That's exactly what I'm asking."

"That's cute."

"If you're going to hurt him..."

He didn't finish, but he didn't need to. Michonne got the idea. She thought back to Shane telling her a similar thing. That if she hurt Rick, he wouldn't be okay with it. "You two must be very close," she said.

"We are," Rick replied. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for him."

Michonne nodded. "I'm sure." 'Even vouch for him after he killed someone unjustly...' "Your shoulder feeling okay?" she asked.

"If it was feeling okay, it wouldn't still be in a sling."

Michonne chuckled. "Right..."

"You never told me exactly what it is you're doing with Shane."

"Are you jealous?"

"Stop deflecting."

"I'm not deflecting. I don't think there's much I could do to hurt him."

"And why do you think that?"

"He's in love with Lori."

Rick was struck silent. "No, he's not," he finally said, staring at Michonne in confusion. The room seemed suddenly wide and empty.

"Isn't he?"

"No. He's not. You know what? Why am I even talking to you?" Rick quickly turned on his heel and left the room without a backward glance.

Michonne was unbothered. She had found Shane's weaknesses. His job, his friendship, and his unrequited love. And she knew just how to make him lose them all.

Rick stormed down the hall and paused when he came to an abandoned cell phone that was just lying in the hall. He looked around to see who could have possibly dropped it. When he saw no one, he turned on the screen to check the owner's identity that way. It was locked and the screen image was a generic one of a landscape. He sighed and put it in his pocket, planning to have Shane make an announcement of the lost object during the party.

He walked into the main room to see his best friend and his wife laughing over something that one of them had said. He hadn't seen Lori laugh like that in a while. And Shane was staring at her attentively, drinking it in. Rick shook his head, ridding himself of any such thoughts. He wouldn't let something that Michonne said make him doubt his wife and his best friend. He went to introduce himself to the conversation.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13: Liar**

Rick was in hell.

He was sure of it.

The music was pumping, lights were dimmed, men's shirts had started to come untucked, and women's hair had started to come loose. It was after 11PM and the partygoers who hadn't left yet were starting to let their inner demons out. According to Shane, this was when things started to get good.

But Rick just felt irritation.

At first he had been relieved when Michonne appeared at Shane's side again. At first.

She was a distraction for Shane. With Michonne there, Rick didn't have to obsess over why Shane was being so attentive to his wife. He didn't have to wonder if their was an extra sparkle in his friend's eye or if his laugh was just a little too loud when it came to Lori. No, when Michonne was around, Shane gave Michonne his attention. And not his wife. So Rick was relieved...and guilt-ridden...for being relieved about such a silly thing. But no matter how he tried to dismiss it, Michonne's words had gotten to him. Shane had been around Rick for as long as he could remember – and Rick around him. It was possible that Shane was in love with his wife. Just possible.

But more disturbing than that was the fact that Rick was still finding reasons to be upset. When he knew there should be none. And he knew he shouldn't try to dissect why he still was.

Rick, Shane, Lori, and Michonne had moved over to a matching armchair and sofa pressed against the wall to rest their feet. Rick and Lori had taken up separate seats on the sofa and Shane had taken the armchair. Both Rick and Shane had been surprised when Michonne slid into Shane's lap. Lori frowned but didn't say anything.

"Whoa~" Shane said. His left hand, occupied with the light weight of a red solo cup filled with Miller Lite beer, went outward so that he didn't spill any of the liquid onto Michonne. His right hand, which was not so occupied, went to her hip and held her there against him. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," Michonne replied. She took the solo cup from his hand and emptied it down her throat while Shane watched hungrily. He was being entrapped. And willingly.

Rick tried not to look to closely at the PDA. "Shane," he said, trying to keep the bite from his voice. "Michonne was telling me earlier that she's a little drunk. Maybe you should take her home."

"Nah," Shane said, still staring at Michonne. "She's a big girl. She can handle it."

"Yeah, Rick," Michonne repeated. "I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself." Rick met Michonne's stare and turned away.

Shane put his finger under Michonne's chin and guided her to look at him. "You want me to take you home?" he asked.

"Depends," Michonne replied flirtatiously. "What are you going to do once you get me there?"

Something clenched in Rick's stomach. He didn't like this one bit. He was disgusted and angered and disappointed with himself for being disgusted and angered.

But it bothered him.

It was true. Michonne's early fixation on him had been just a game to her and he – an imperfect, yet devoted husband and father had been taken by it. And now she had switched her focus to Shane and there was nothing he could, or should, do about it.

"Is this your hobby?" Lori's voice snapped Rick out of his tortured thoughts. A frown marred Lori's face and she was looking at Michonne. "Getting drunk so that you don't have to claim the consequences with sleeping with unsuspecting men?" A tense hush fell over the four people on the couch and armchair.

"Lori..." Shane started, the first to speak up.

"Babe-" Rick interrupted. Lori pulled away from his comforting hand.

"No, I don't have to be nice or polite to her," Lori said. "She hasn't done anything even slightly deserving of it. And I don't see why you two are tolerating her," she continued, looking at Rick and Shane in turn. She kept her eyes on Shane. "How can you even think about being with her after the damage she's done to this family? I thought you cared about us."

Michonne stayed quiet. She just watched as things played out.

Rick noticed this as he reached over to comfort Lori again. He squinted. 'What is she up to?' he wondered.

Lori shrugged away from Rick again and stood up from the couch in a huff. "Excuse me. I- I need some air."

Michonne felt Shane place his hands around her waist and give her a little nudge. She got the hint and stood up. "I'm gonna go talk to her," Shane said as he followed Lori out. Rick stood up, thinking about whether to follow after them or give them time to talk.

"Funny that Shane is the one going after your wife," Michonne said, still standing.

Rick shook his head and clenched his teeth together. He had been struggling with how to deal with Michonne, but in that moment, he figured he didn't have to. "I'm going to need you to stay away from me and my family," he said, turning his full irritation onto her. "That includes Shane." Again, Michonne didn't show any big reaction. Not surprise, not hurt, just stoic observation.

She reached into her back pants pocket and that's when shock registered on her face.

"What is it?" Rick asked, unable to help himself.

"My cell phone," Michonne said. "Shit. I must've dropped it somewhere."

Rick reached into his own back pocket, remembering the cell phone he had picked up in the hall about an hour ago. "Is this it?" he asked, retrieving it and holding it out to her.

"Yes," Michonne said, almost snatching it in her haste to get it back from him. "How do you have it?"

"I found it in the hall."

Rick took in Michonne with that same squint of his eyes. He was more and more beginning to suspect that something was off. First, Lori told him she was interested in that scandal from a while back that he didn't even want to think about and then...not even that...but she had concealed the fact that she even knew who he was when she met him. And now she was fidgety over a phone? "Is there something on there that you don't want me to see?" Rick asked, his voice deceptively light.

"No," Michonne lied. She knew if Rick saw the photos of Mike and Andre that she had on her phone he would come to her asking questions. "I just don't like the thought that I almost lost it." She pushed it into her back pocket.

As for Rick's request, she pretended she didn't hear it. She wasn't going anywhere until she made Shane feel the pointlessness to his existence that she felt every day that she didn't have her family with her. "So now are you just not going after them because you want to prove to yourself that you trust them?" Michonne asked, pressing Rick's buttons.

"I _do_ trust them."

"Then joke's on you." Michonne ignored Rick's scowl and walked around him. "I'm going to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. You want anything?"

"I want you gone," Rick snarled.

Michonne smirked. "Lighten up, Grimes," she said. "We're supposed to be friends. Remember?"

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Michonne went in the direction she saw Shane and Lori go. That led her to the kitchen, then outside, then down a little path to a backyard area that Shane must sometimes use for gatherings because a barbecue pit, tables, and chairs were sitting around. And that's where she found them.

"Well, isn't this conveniently romantic," Michonne said to herself. Lori was facing Shane with her arms across her chest and Shane's stance was apologetic. He rubbed his head in casual frustration and Michonne could tell from the way he was leaning slightly that he was still drunk. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket. Michonne stayed mostly out of sight. She could just barely hear their voices.

"I'm just havin' fun," Shane was saying. "Neither of 'em meant any harm by it. They don't even remember it-"

"That doesn't matter!" Lori said. "It happened! Rick betrayed me! And now you are too."

"That's not fair."

"Well..." Lori shrugged her shoulders and threw her hands up. "That's how I feel." They stared at each other for a moment. "You've always been there for us," Lori finally continued. "Even when Rick couldn't or wouldn't you..." Lori shook her head and scratched her brow, her voice fading out. No following words came out, but they didn't need to. Her implication hung in the air.

"I shouldn't be saying this," Lori said, her voice cracking. "Rick does the best he can. I'm the horrible one for depending on you like this-"

"No. No," Shane said. He pulled Lori into a hug. Her face rested against his chest. "You come to me with whatever you need. I'll be there. That ain't gon' change."

Michonne lowered her eyes. There was something sad about this whole situation.

" _There are two ways this can go..."_

Michonne looked up, surprised to see Mike standing at her side. She hadn't seen him since she had almost kissed Rick in a moment of confusion. "How's that?" she asked lowly.

" _You can continue this plan of yours or you can fix this..."_

Michonne chuckled dryly. "How?" She raised her phone and slid to the camera setting.

" _You know how."_

Michonne took the photo of Shane embracing Lori. "I liked you better when you were gone," she told a disappointed Mike. She looked over and he was gone. "...Good riddance..."

"I won't date her," Shane said, breaking the intimate silence that had settled over him and Lori. "If it means that much to you, I won't date Michonne."

Lori lifted her head slightly. "Thank you," she said. "I know it's selfish, but thank you. You'll find someone better; I know it."

"Nah...I don't think so," Shane said meaningfully, staring into Lori's eyes. "The girl of my dreams is already taken."

Michonne could literally see Lori's intake of breath. She raised her phone again, feeling an odd mix of jubilation at things falling so perfectly into place and sadness at the fragility of four people's lives possibly being uprooted in one single moment.

"...Shane," Lori whispered, surprise coloring her voice.

And then it happened. Shane leaned down and laid his lips against Lori's. It was a deeply planted kiss for only a moment. But that was all Michonne needed. She saved the photo on her phone, stuffed it into her pocket, and left just as Lori pushed Shane away. She had gotten what she needed. She was done here.

00000000000000000000000000000000

"I'm sorry," Shane apologized. Lori backed away with a hand over her lips. "God!" Shane rubbed his hand through his hair furiously. He was angry at himself. "I'm sorry," he said again. It was all he _could_ say.

Lori shook her head, shaking away his apology. "It didn't happen," she said. "This. It- it didn't happen. We'll just go back inside and...it'll be fine."

"It don't work like that, Lori-"

"It has to!" She turned on her heel. "I'm going ahead. You get yourself together and then follow."

Shane shook his head. 'Women,' he thought disdainfully, astounded at how fast she was dismissing this. But the shake of his head finally became a nod. "Okay," he said. "Okay. Rick, man, I gotta- Okay..."

"Okay," Lori said again as affirmation. "Get yourself together and come in." She walked away. Shane placed his hands on his hips and sighed, getting himself together. How was he going to lie to his best friend? The man he had shared everything with since childhood? The man he trusted his life to every day on the job? The man who had stuck his neck out for him in such a big way almost a year ago...

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

 **Months Ago**

"Shit." Shane put his hands on his head as his brain made sense of what he was seeing. The young, African American male was laid out on the ground, a bag of drugs the only thing falling loosely from his hand.

"He doesn't have a weapon," Rick surmised.

"I just saw him reaching into his pocket and I acted-" Shane said. Rick could tell his friend was about to work himself up over this. His face was turning red and he was pacing back and forth. "I told him to put his hands up; he went for his pocket! What was I s'posed to think?!"

"I know, I know..." Rick said, trying to reassure Shane. "Calm down. We gotta think." He knelt down by the body of the man who would no longer be in the world. Because of them. His head fell to his chest and he rubbed the pads of his fingers together – a headache began to build at the very center of his forehead. "Okay," he said, trying to get things together in his head. "First we gotta call for backup-"

"Man, they're gon' suspend me," Shane said. "Or worse, fire me. This is my second time firing my weapon this month. That prick from internal affairs already don't like me; he's gon' be itchin' to get me fired. Just 'cause I didn't refer his nephew to the academy."

"Don't you think you should worry about your job later?" Rick asked, bringing his friend back down to Earth. "You just took a man's life."

"Shit, man, you're right," Shane agreed. "My mind's just runnin' all over the place right now."

"Hey, y'all gon' take all day or what?!" Merle's voice yelled from the back of the squad car.

"Hey!" Shane shouted back. "Shut up!" He turned back to Rick. "And we gotta take that piece of shit back to the station..." Shane knelt down on the other side of the man's body. He let out a deep sigh. "I can't have this shit on my record right now..."

Rick was deep in thought. Finally he made a decision. He took his gun out of his holster. "Gimme your gun," he said, holding his hand out to Shane.

Shane immediately knew what he was thinking. "No. Nah, man, I'm not gonna let you do that."

"I have a clean record," Rick said. "Internal affairs won't come down so hard on me." Shane didn't move. "Do I have to pull the 'superior' card?" Rick asked with a tilt of his head. Shane sighed, unclipped his holster, and reluctantly handed his gun over. Rick gave him his gun in return. "Go back to the car and start doing the paperwork for Merle; I'll call in backup." Shane sighed again and stood up, doing as he was told.

Rick looked back at the body of the man on the ground and felt a weight settle on his heart. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

0000000000000000000000000000000000

 **Present**

On Michonne's way back into the house, she ran into Carl coming out of the back door. "Whoa," she said, holding him steady. "Where are you going?"

"Sorry," Carl apologized for bumping into her. "I'm looking for Shane. I got bored playing video games at Duane's so I decided to come over here."

"Shane's busy," Michonne said, turning Carl around and leading him back into the house. "Go find your father."

"Aww~" Carl whined. "Dad's boring."

Michonne couldn't help but to snicker. "Then go back to your friend's." Michonne opened the refrigerator and grabbed a water. She opened it and took a drink. She was trying to act casual, but she was glad she had come back in when she did or Carl would have seen something he most surely didn't want to see.

Carl ignored Michonne's last instruction. He had already found his new companion. He hopped up onto the kitchen counter next to Michonne. "Hey. My teacher is making us write a paper about the occupation of a person we know and we have to do research and everything; can I write about you?"

Michonne shrugged her shoulders. "Why?"

"'Cause you're a lawyer. That must be pretty exciting, right?"

Michonne laughed. "Not here. Back in Atlanta it was."

"Then why don't you go back to Atlanta."

Michonne gasped. "Trying to get rid of me?"

"No!" Carl laughed. "I didn't mean it like that. I was just wondering why you came here if it's not the best place for your job."

Michonne shrugged. "Needed a change of scenery, I guess." She couldn't very well tell him she had come to get revenge on his father.

"Well, I'm glad you came," Carl said. Michonne tried not to feel too flattered. "So can I do the report on you?" Carl continued.

"Sure," Michonne answered. "Does 4PM tomorrow afternoon work for you?"

"Yes."

"Great. Appointment made. Come to my office then." She held out her hand for a handshake. Carl laughed and shook it.

"Mom." He jumped down off of the counter. Michonne turned to see Lori coming through the back door. She looked distracted. "Mom. Have you seen Shane?"

"He's busy, honey," Lori said. "Let's go find your father."

Michonne watched them leave. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket again and texted the picture of Shane kissing Lori to Andrea. She immediately felt her phone vibrate with a response, but she didn't check it. She pushed her cell phone into her back pocket and headed back out of the house. It was time to make her move on this. She didn't see the point of holding off.

She found Shane where she had left him just a few moments ago. She had expected him to be with Lori for a while more, but Lori must have spooked and left. That had no bearing on Michonne's future plans, though. The kiss had already happened and she had it documented.

"Hey," she said, letting herself be known.

Shane stopped pacing and placed his hands on his hips. "Hey," he said, obviously preoccupied and not really inviting of new company. "Listen," he said. "I think we gotta cool things off..."

"Cool things off?" Michonne asked innocently.

"Yeah. You know, I think it'd be best if we didn't date or anything for a while. What happened with you and Rick is just too...it's too present, you know? We need to leave it alone."

Michonne nodded. "I agree." Shane nodded as well, looking to be relieved that it was going to be simple. But Michonne had other ideas. "You wouldn't want your girlfriend to get upset. Even though she's married to your best friend?"

Shane's attention snapped directly to her. Any distraction of his mind was gone. "Whatchu mean by that?"

"You know what I mean," Michonne stated. "I saw you. Just a few minutes ago. Right here. With Lori."

There was a long moment of silence as it finally clicked with Shane what exactly it was that Michonne was saying. He took an intimidating step toward her. "You sure you wanna come at me like this?" he asked.

Michonne chuckled humorlessly. "I do," she said. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and held it up. "I even snapped a nice photo. Wanna see?"

Shane reached out to grab the phone out of Michonne's hand, but she avoided his grasp. "I already sent it to Andrea," she said. "She has the photo so it's not going away. Even if you try anything."

An angry vein jumped in Shane's temple and Michonne immediately felt the difference between this Shane and the Shane she had been flirting so heavily with a few hours ago. 'Was he this angry when he killed Mike?' he wondered. 'Probably not. He probably barely felt a thing.'

"So, what is this?" Shane asked. Michonne could physically see him trying to keep his temper under control. "You gon' blackmail me or somethin'? You some kind of scammer? Or is this some jealousy thing?"

Michonne smirked. He was so far off that it was almost humorous. "No," she said. "Well...yes about the blackmailing. No on the reasons." Shane narrowed his eyes, impatiently waiting for her to elaborate. "I want you to quit your job," she said. "Or this photo is going to straight to Rick. And I don't think Rick would like this picture very much, do you?"

The muscles in Shane's jaw jumped. Michonne could tell that his brain was working furiously on what to do here. "Why would you want me to quit my job?" he asked.

Michonne answered. "You don't deserve to be a police officer."

"And why is that?"

All signs of faux amusement fell from Michonne's face. She stared coldly at Shane Walsh. "August 24th. 10PM. You shot a man named Mike Wallace in cold blood-"

Shane's hands went to his head. Michonne could see that he remembered that night. Shane immediately began to chuckle derisively at himself...at the situation. He turned in one small, complete circle as it all dawned on him. "That man had a fiance," he mumbled. "You're the fiance."

" _Mike_ ," Michonne said. "His name was Mike and he had more than a fiance; he had a child!" Her voice shook with indignation. The rage she tried to keep hidden at all times was bubbling to the surface.

"Alright," Shane said. "So what is this? Revenge? You wanna take it out on me? Huh?"

"Yes," Michonne yelled. "Yes!"

"Fine. Hit me! Punch me! I don't care. Here." He grabbed Michonne's wrist and aggressively leaned his head toward her, trying to make her hit him. Michonne snatched her hand back.

"Don't touch me!" she warned. "Hitting you isn't enough. I want you to quit!"

Shane dropped his head. "I'm not quitting my job," he said, his voice hard and determined.

"Then I'm showing Rick this photo," Michonne said. She turned on her heel to do just that.

Shane grabbed her arm and spun her around. "Wait, wait-!"

Michonne wrenched away from his grasp. "I told you not to touch me!"

"Wait," he said again.

"Quit," Michonne said again. "Or Rick sees this. Then not only will you lose your job, but you'll lose your best friend as well. And I don't think anything needs to be said about Rick and Lori's marriage. I don't think it'll be able to withstand something like this. After everything? It would be devastating for Rick. And Lori. And Carl? People you claim to love."

Shane met Michonne with a cold stare.

"What?" Michonne asked. "Do you want to kill me, now, too?"

Shane sighed and closed his eyes. "Fine..." he finally said.

"Fine what?" Michonne asked.

"Fine, I'll quit my job! Give me a couple of days."

"If you don't do it-"

"I'll do it," Shane said, his voice hard. "I just need a couple of days."

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Three days passed and Michonne was starting to become sure that Shane had taken her threat as a bluff. Or that he was just ignoring her. But then at 3:50PM, while she was in her office, she received a text message from Shane.

'I've done it. Handed in my gun and badge. You happy?'

Michonne was still suspicious about it up until the moment Carl came over for their daily work on his research paper. "Hey, Carl," she said when he came through the door. "What excuse did you use to get out of the house today?"

Carl had been telling her that he had been giving excuses to come and meet her because he knew his mother wasn't fond of her.

"I didn't need to make an excuse," Carl said. "The whole town, including my parents, are making a fuss 'cause Shane said he doesn't want to be a police officer anymore."

Michonne tried not to show an abnormal amount of interest in the subject. "The whole town?" she asked.

"That's how it is in King County," Carl said. "No one can do anything without everyone knowing." He laughed. "A lot of the old people are like," Carl started to imitate an old woman. "He's young and healthy; why is he quitting? What does he plan to do?"

Michonne laughed at Carl's imitation.

"Do you know why he's quitting?" she asked. "Has he said anything?"

Carl shook his head. "No. He won't tell mom or dad anything. They're worried." He sat down in front of Michonne's desk and looked down at his hands.

"Are you?" she asked.

Carl shook his head again. "No," he said. "Just confused. He was the best officer here after my dad."

Michonne kept her eyes directed at the surface of her desk as she straightened up paperwork that didn't need to be straightened. "Yeah, well, sometimes adults are hard to understand." She looked up at him. "Now, let's get to your paper, shall we? What do you want to talk about today?"

She tried to be attentive as possible with Carl for the hour that he was there, but when he left, she was relieved to get the time to consider her next move. It didn't take much consideration though. This was just the completion of her already formed plan.

She pulled out her cell phone, went to the photo of Shane and Lori kissing, and placed the phone down on her desk.

Shane had quit as she asked so she could delete the photo and end it here...or she could do as she always planned and send the photo to Rick anyway. No job. And no friend. Shane would lose everything.

But she hesitated.

Shane wasn't the only one who would potentially lose everything. Her eyes landed on a ballpoint pen that Carl had left behind. She picked it up and twirled it in her fingers.

0000000000000000000000000000000000

 **4 Years Ago**

Michonne heard Mike come through the door. Nervousness and anticipation coursed through her. She picked up the tray of sandwiches and champagne that she had prepared and carried it to the living room. She was just in time to see Mike falling back onto the couch. "I'm so tired!" he said. He watched Michonne set the tray carefully on the table. She opened the champagne and poured two glasses.

"What's all this?" Mike asked.

"I~ have a surprise for you," she said. "I know it was a surprise for me."

"What is it?" he asked.

Michonne pushed the two champagne glasses toward him. "Well, here's a hint," she said. "Both of these are for you. Because I can't have any."

Confusion was on Mike's face for only a moment. Then it dawned on him. Surprise spread across his face. "You're pregnant?" he asked.

Michonne nodded, excitement about to burst out of her.

"You're pregnant!" Mike said again, sitting up. His face split into a grin. Michonne laughed. "You're pregnant!" Mike jumped up, all weariness gone and he hugged Michonne. Her feet came off the floor as he embraced her, exalted.

"I'm pregnant!" Michonne laughed. The words leaving her mouth for the first time ever. She laughed and she knew this was the happiest moment of her life.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

 **Present**

Michonne gave it no more thought. She pressed 'send' on her cell phone, sending the photo as a text message to Rick Grimes.

'There,' she thought. 'It's done.'


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14: Goodnight, Love**

Michonne wasn't sure how long she sat there in her office. But it grew dark; black slowly descended and overtook all of the light in the room.

Her phone sat silent on the desk in front of her. No ringtone, no vibration, no onscreen notification...nothing. Carl's pen stayed clutched in Michonne's fist. When it was completely dark, she turned the lamp on in her office and sat back with a sigh.

It was done. It was really done. But with the peace and quiet of her office, Michonne almost believed that nothing had changed. It reminded her of the calm that touched the town a few nights ago. But that calm had been temporary. A storm swept through afterwards. And everyone, except her, had stayed to clean it up.

Michonne was in the midst of wondering if she felt any different when the calm was disturbed. Her office door opened.

Michonne tensed and looked toward it. It was Rick.

His form barely filled the doorway. His phone was in his hand which was hanging limply at his side. Michonne looked from the object to his face. An almost haunted look was on his countenance. Michonne stood up.

"What is this?" Rick asked, not moving.

Michonne glanced down at her desk. "You gotta be more specific-"

"DON'T PLAY GAMES!" Rick roared. Michonne jumped, startled to hear Rick's voice raised to such a volume. "I'm tired of the games. And the lies," He swung the door closed and stalked into the room. Michonne kept herself planted where she was as he approached. "Just tell me what this is." He raised the phone. At this point, he was right in front of her face with only the desk between them.

Michonne refused to be intimidated. "Why don't you ask your wife?" she retorted, her voice cold.

Rick scoffed. "No, I'm askin' you," Rick said, his Southern accent getting heavier the more worked up he got. His body was slightly shifted to the side and his head was tilted, as if he couldn't face her directly for fear of what he might do.

His anger fed Michonne's. She stepped out from behind her desk, not needing or wanting a physical shield. "Why?" Michonne asked. "You afraid of what she might tell you?"

A questioning look appeared on Rick's face. "Why are you doin' this?" he asked. "Why- why go to all of this trouble to ruin my life?"

"I'm not trying to ruin your life. Not anymore. I don't care about your life."

Rick's face twisted into a frown. He simply didn't understand. He dropped the hand that held his cell phone to his side and he scratched at his brow, trying to make sense of it all. "So, Lori was right. You- you came here for somethin'. For what?!" He thought back to Lori telling him about her and Michonne's conversation on the first night they met. Mike Wallace. That incident. The image of that scene came into his mind, filled it, and he suddenly knew. "You- you knew him."

An angry satisfaction filled Michonne's being at Rick having figured it out. She went to her desk, pulled out a framed picture, and slammed it on the surface. The man Rick had only ever seen lifeless was staring out at him, smiling, and holding a young boy. Rick shook his head, a well of sadness filling him. He didn't want to see. "He was my fiance," Michonne said. "This is his _son_." Michonne's voice broke. " _My_ son."

"You...you're the reason why Shane decided to quit. You got to him."

"Look at him!" Michonne demanded, as Rick's eyes kept glancing around the room. Anywhere but at the picture. "Look at my son!"

Rick looked at him. "You have no idea..." Rick said, his voice breaking. "How sorry I am about what happened. I've gone to therapy; it's haunted me..."

Michonne's focus went to Rick's left. Mike had appeared at Rick's shoulder. Michonne couldn't see his eyes. Rick started to follow her eyeline, but Michonne's focus snapped back to him. "I guess that's supposed to make me feel better..." she said. "It doesn't."

She walked back to the front of her desk. "I had to blackmail Shane to get him to quit. Told him I'd show you that picture if he didn't."

"You showed it to me anyway."

"I did."

Rick's hand clenched around the phone still in his hand.

"Shane shot Mike that night," Michonne continued. "And the only things Shane care about are his job, you, and your wife...Now he doesn't have any of them...Well, depending on how things go after this, he might still have your wife-"

Rick advanced on Michonne quickly. She instinctively wrapped her fingers around the glass nameplate on her desk as Rick's hands clamped down on her upper arms. His fingers bit into her skin and his eyes sparked dangerously. This was the closest Rick Grimes had ever come to hurting a woman.

The picture on Michonne's desk fell with a _tink_ and in an instant, Rick snapped out of his rage. Rick's face laxed with shock and his head fell with shame.

And Michonne, herself, felt a new kind of frustration. Frustration in the fact that it hurt. Not the pain of his grip, but the pain of his hate. It hurt her that she had managed to inspire such contempt from him. She fought to hold back tears from her heightened emotions – tears that pricked the backs of her eyes. It wasn't supposed to hurt. "Were you this upset when your partner murdered an innocent man?" Michonne asked, her voice steady under malice. "No," she said. "Probably not. You're as much to blame as him."

Rick released her and backed away.

"Since you got what you came for..." he said, his voice low. "I hope that you'd leave now. Go back home."

He left her office.

Michonne's hand slid from her nameplate to catch a few tears that finally leaked over.

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Rick sat in his living room, in front of the fireplace. They barely used it, but tonight he had the flames going low. The sound of the crackling of the logs was soothing to him.

When Lori walked through the door, he took a deep breath.

"Rick, what are you still doing up?" Lori asked. A bag rustled in her hand.

"Waiting for you," Rick said. "You weren't here when I got back."

"I needed to get some air. Stopped at a convenience store to get a few things while I was out..."

Rick nodded. "I sent Carl over to stay with Duane for the night."

"Oh..." Lori said. "Okay." She didn't move from where she stood next to the arm of the couch to kiss him on his cheek as she normally would. She could feel tension in the air. "Were you able to find Shane?"

Rick sighed. "No," she said. "Were you?"

"...No...I guess he must have left town for a while after quitting. I just wish I knew why he did it."

"I know why he did it."

For the first time since she came in, Rick looked over at Lori. When she gave him a questioning look, he picked his cell phone off of the cushion next to him and pulled the picture up. He held it up so that Lori could see.

The plastic grocery bag Lori held fell from her grasp and a small gasp left her lips. Silence descended over the room. "Rick, I-"

"When I first got this...I stared at it for an hour..." Rick said. "Tellin' myself it couldn't be true. That my wife and my best friend wouldn't do this. But it's true, isn't it?"

Lori closed her eyes, feeling as if the floor was falling from beneath her. "It wasn't supposed to happen," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"How long have you two liked each other?" Rick asked. "Have you always-?"

"No." Lori hurriedly went to Rick and sat by his side. She grabbed his arm, but her contact only caused him to stand up and move away. Lori swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. "No," she said again, trying to keep herself from crying. "I don't love him, Rick. I love you."

"Then what's this about?" Rick asked, raising his voice, showing her the picture again.

"I don't know!" In one moment, Lori looked for the right words to express the confused feelings of several years. "I- I do love you, Rick; there's never been a doubt in my mind. But..."

Rick's stomach fell to his shoes.

"I don't know when I started depending on Shane. He's always there when you're not-"

"I'm here, Lori!" Rick shouted. "I'm here! You make me sound like an absentee husband and father when I do every damn thing I can to support this family!"

"I know you're here and you're a great husband and a great father, but it doesn't always feel like it."

"What the hell does that even mean, Lori?!"

Lori's head fell in her hands as she fought back tears. "I don't know!" She stood up and faced him. Her hands went to her back pockets. "Sometimes..." she looked for the right words. "It's like all you _are_ is a man that provides. You provide a home for us and food, but you don't _share_ yourself. I can't remember the last time we've really sat down and _talked_. About stuff that matters. And when we try and I think we're getting somewhere, it's like you shut down."

"Because all we do when we talk these days is end up arguing!"

"That's better than nothing!"

Rick threw the cell phone down on the couch and put his hands on his hips. "And you're saying you can talk to Shane?"

"I'm saying...it's not as difficult."

Rick was quiet. He was hurting. "...Is this the first time you've kissed him?" Rick asked.

"Yes," Lori said. "Yes. And I pulled away right when I realized what was going on. It wasn't supposed to happen; I'm... _so_ sorry, Rick."

Rick rubbed his fingers over his eyes, thinking. The only thing he could think was that he didn't want to lose her. Fourteen years of marriage. Fourteen years of marriage wasn't something to just throw away. "We can get over this," Rick said. "You forgave me for what I did. I can forgive you. Let's...let's make a clean slate. Let's start over."

Shadows danced over the living room as the flames died down in the fireplace.

"I...I want to," Lori said.

Rick felt foreboding in his stomach. "Then let's do it."

"I want to..." Lori said again. "But maybe it's best if I go to my mom's for a little while."

Silence again. "...You mean separate..." Rick said.

"Only for a little while," Lori repeated. She kept speaking as Rick sat down, trying to wrap his head around what she was saying. "You're right about us. When we speak, we only argue. We need some time apart. After that...then we can see about starting fresh."

Rick stared into the dying flames; he seemed to have gone away somewhere.

"Rick?"

"I've known a lot of couples who took a break," Rick said. "Married couples. Who said they weren't divorced, but separated. 'We're not divorced, just separated'. And none of those couples _ever_ fixed what was wrong. Divorce papers always came. Taking breaks doesn't work. We have to work through this...together."

"We're not those people," Lori said. "I believe you when you say we can get through this. But I... _I_ need a break. Believe in us."

The flames died in the fireplace. Lori's voice faded. Rick wasn't sure how long he checked out, but when he became aware of his surroundings again, Lori was gone.

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Carl wasn't sure what exactly had happened, but one morning he woke up and everything had just been different. His mother wasn't there and came in later that day to talk to him about how she would be gone for a little while and that it wasn't his fault. That he could maybe visit her and grandma when school got out for summer.

Carl had pretended to understand, but he didn't. And every day that went by when his mother wasn't back yet, he understood less and less. So far, two weeks had passed. He didn't know how many more weeks things would stay like this, but his mom inviting him to his grandma's for the summer didn't make things look promising. He had to keep himself from whining and asking her to come back whenever she made her daily phone calls. He knew that that wouldn't be very mature of him. He also didn't ask her about why she left. He didn't need to know.

He figured it was his father's fault.

His dad hadn't even tried to talk to him about his mother's reason for leaving. Carl guessed his dad figured that Lori's talk had been enough.

But Carl was just more confused than ever. He found out Duane was transferring to a new school next year. Shane and his father were no longer friends anymore – Carl had seen Rick punch Shane when Shane showed up to their house the day after Lori left – so Shane no longer spent any time with Carl. And Carl had a hard time connecting with his father even though he was there.

There was one person who was a constant since everything started to fall apart, though.

"Carl, where are you going?" Rick asked as Carl bounded through the living room with his backpack on his back.

"Out," Carl responded.

"I took the day off; I thought we could-" Carl closed the door on his father's sentence and ran up the street. He then pushed through the trees at the edge of town and then found the fallen log he had sat on on the night that his father got shot. About a half an hour later, he heard the snapping of twigs and the crunching of leaves. He smiled and looked up from the comic he had been reading to pass the time just as Michonne became visible through the trees. Her dreads, which were in a ponytail, fell over her shoulder as she ducked under wayward tree limbs.

In her hands, as usual, she carried a lunch box.

"Tell me, again, why we have to meet out here?" Michonne said as she sat down. She was in a fancy skirt, blouse, and heels. Carl would usually laugh at someone who came out to the woods in such a ridiculous getup, but he dared not laugh at Michonne. She somehow made the outfit seem like it belonged. The trees were the ones who had to conform, not her.

"'Cause this is our spot," Carl said, eagerly taking the lunch box from her hands. The only way he had survived these two weeks were through her lunchboxes. His dad's cooking was bound to kill him.

Michonne smiled gently at him as he ravenously unwrapped the paper around the sandwiches she had prepared. It was cute to hear him refer to the clearing as their spot. " _And_ it keeps us away from prying eyes," she half-joked. "Admit it. You don't want to be seen with me."

Carl shrugged. There was some truth to it. "My dad told me to stay away from you. Helps if I don't have to keep making excuses."

Michonne nodded. "Makes sense. And you should probably do as your dad says."

"Why?" Carl asked.

"Because I'll throw you in an oven and eat you like that witch in _Hansel and Gretel_ ," Michonne joked. "I'm fattening you up for a reason."

"I'm serious," Carl said. "Why? You're cool but...nobody seems to like you."

"Ouch."

"No-" Carl fumbled with his words. "You know what I mean."

Michonne sighed. She glanced around and grabbed the _X-Men_ comic that Carl had been reading. "I guess my comic book expertise can't win _everyone_ over."

Carl could tell that she was still deflecting, but he took a bite of his sandwich and let it go. "You don't know as much as you think you do," Carl teased casually.

Michonne hiked a brow at him. "Excuse me? I don't think you know who you're talking to."

Carl laughed, but he didn't push the subject because he knew if he pressed it, she would challenge him to a trivia quiz-off. And she would end up winning. And he would end up having to wear a bow in his hair or something. "Are you not gonna eat?" Carl asked.

Michonne shook her head. "I already ate."

"There's a lot here," Carl said, looking at the rest of the food in the lunchbox.

"Take it home and keep it for leftovers."

"Okay," Carl said with a shrug, happy for any excuse not to eat his dad's cooking. "Oh yeah!" He started to reach into his backpack.

"Carl, I have to tell you something."

"What is it?"

"I'm going to be going back to Atlanta soon and I just wanted you to know I've really enjoyed getting to know you and spending time with you."

Carl froze in his movement. He looked over his shoulder at Michonne. "You're leaving?" he asked, disbelief edging his voice.

Taken aback by Carl's serious tone, Michonne answered. "Yeah..."

"There's not much left for me to do here. I've tried the small town thing, and it's just not working. You can call me any time you want, though-"

"Whatever." Before Michonne could finish speaking, Carl finished digging in his backpack and threw a folded piece of paper at her. He then stood up. He dropped his sandwich on the ground, stepping on it as he left. "I don't care."

Michonne was left confused at Carl's abrupt exit. "Carl!"

She opened the piece of paper he had thrown at her and saw that it was the report he had written about her. A large, red "A" was at the top of the paper and the title 'Attorney Awesome v. The World' was in bold. Michonne smiled. Next to the title was a cartoon drawing of a woman with dreads making a grand speech on a pile of books. She wore a cape and only one word floated above her head in a speech bubble: 'Justice!'

Touched, Michonne folded the paper again and stook it into the hem of her skirt. "Thanks for being my friend, Carl," she whispered. Michonne was almost relieved that by leaving now, she'd leave Carl's view of her, as he had depicted her in his report, intact. She would have no opportunity to taint it.

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Carl walked into his home and slammed the door.

"Carl!" Rick reprimanded in response.

When Carl ignored him and pounded up the stairs, Rick stood up from the couch and followed after him. He found him in his room with his headphones on and music blaring out of them. "Carl," Rick said again, trying to get his son's attention with no luck. He moved forward and took the headphones off of Carl's ears.

"Hey!"

Rick ignored Carl's protest and threw the headphones onto a drawer situated against Carl's wall.

Carl's room was similar to most boys' rooms of his age. He had a single bed with blue sheets on top, posters of soft rock bands that Rick didn't know the name of took up space on the wall, and it was a mess! Rick really hadn't taken a look in Carl's room for weeks now. Clothing littered the floor and trash flowed over from the small trash can next to his bed. "Your room's a mess!" Rick said, distracted for a moment from the reason he had followed Carl up to his room in the first place.

But he was reminded when Carl snatched his headphones back off of the top of his drawer, knocking a few items down in the process, and placed them over his ears once again.

The headphones were taken from Carl for a second time. "What's wrong with you?" Rick asked.

Frustrated, Carl wished for his Dad to leave him alone. "Can you give me my fuckin' headphones, Dad?" Carl held his hand out for them; Rick held them out of reach, appalled. "Please?"

"What did you just say to me?" Rick asked. He stared down at his eleven-year-old son with authoritative anger. "Who taught you to speak like that?"

"You. Shane." Carl no longer wanted to talk about anything. He flipped over onto his side and faced the wall. "Whatever."

"No, not whatever. You sit up here and look at me." Carl ignored him. "Get up!" Rick demanded.

Carl obeyed – reluctantly and angrily, but he obeyed. He glared at Rick after sitting up.

"I don't care if you heard it from me, your mother, or a family friend. That language doesn't come into this house," Rick demanded, his eyes trained on Carl's. "Especially not when you're speakin' to me. You wanna start speakin' like an adult, you better stop throwin' tantrums like a kid."

Anger coursed through Carl's body, but he kept his lips shut.

Rick considered his unrepentant son and grew suspicious. He knew his son went to talk to Michonne sometimes. He had seen them once on his patrol of town. Carl had been laughing at the time, though – something that was becoming more and more rare – and Rick hadn't gone out of his way to stop the liaisons. But now Rick was wondering if that had been the best idea. "I know you sneak off to go hang out with Michonne sometimes," Rick said. "She say somethin' to you?"

"No," Carl griped, turning over onto his side again. "What would she say? She's leaving, just like everyone else."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15: I Just Want To Shut My Brain Off For a Little While**

Pills meant for killing pain scattered across the bathroom floor with a clatter.

"Shit," Rick cursed.

He struggled to finish re-bandaging his healing shoulder wound with one hand. The lingering pain he felt became less and less every day, but the slight throbbing of his physical wound only added to the irritation and stress of his mind on this particular day.

He heard the front door slam shut and felt relief. Giving up on trying to cover his wound on his own, he called through the door for help. "Carl?" There was no reply. "Carl, come in here, son!" He heard Carl's footsteps approaching up the stairs but then they retreated towards his room and not towards the bathroom.

Rick's brow furrowed. "Carl?!"

He pulled the bathroom door open and peeked his head out just in time to see Carl's door slam.

'What now?' he thought with exasperation.

He clumsily applied a cloth bandage to his wound, tore a strip of tape free with his teeth, and did a quick-fix personal first aide job. The pills remained on the floor – something he would have to see to in a few minutes.

Rick left the bathroom and went to Carl's room. A quick rap of his knuckles against the door was his only signal before he turned the knob and went in. "Carl?"

"Ugghh," Carl groaned from where he lay on the bed. He didn't turn over to look at his father as he entered the room. "What?!"

Deciding to ignore the irritation in Carl's tone, Rick asked, "You feelin' okay?"

"I'm fine," Carl bit out, sounding anything but.

Rick narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Turn around and look at me."

"I'm tired," Carl responded. "I wanna just take a nap."

"And you can. Right after you turn around and look at me."

Carl released another long-suffering sigh before he sat up and turned around, doing what his father wanted.

Rick's mouth almost dropped open when he saw Carl's face.

Carl was sporting a black eye and a busted lip. "What happened to you?!" Rick asked, shocked.

"Nothing," Carl said with a scowl. "The other kid looks worse."

A wave of disbelief and understanding washed over Rick. "You got into a fight?" he asked. "Three weeks until school ends and you get into a fight?" Carl shrugged. "Come here."

Rick took Carl to the bathroom and applied some ointment from the First Aid kit to his busted lip. "Tell me what happened." He was trying to keep his concern, frustration, and words in check until he got the full story.

"Nothing," Carl said. He cringed away from the swab of alcoholic ointment that threatened to sting his wounded lip.

"This doesn't look like 'nothing'," Rick said. "Tell me." He carefully dabbed medication against Carl's lip and waited.

"...Just some kid talking about Mom..." Carl finally said.

"What did this kid say?" Rick asked.

"He said Mom probably left to start another family." Rick sighed, hating that Carl had to hear stuff like that at school. In that moment, he cursed living in a small town. "Is that true, Dad?"

"No," Rick answered, looking into Carl's eyes. "No, it's not true. Your mom has just gone to visit Grandma Louise for a little while. She'll be back." The telephone rang, pulling Rick's attention from his son. He sighed. "Can you wait here for a minute? Here." He handed Carl the swab he was using to apply ointment onto his lip. "Put this on your lip. That's probably your school."

Rick answered the phone and found that he was correct. It was the principal of Carl's school. "Hi, Sheriff Grimes, we're just calling to inform you that your son has been involved in a fight, and I wouldn't be bothering you at home if this was the first time but for the past couple of weeks your son has been displaying troublesome behavior..." Rick partially zoned out as the principal droned on about Carl's drastic and growing disinterest in his schoolwork. He made noncommittal sounds to show he was listening when he felt it was warranted and simply wondered where he was going so wrong.

On the phone with Lori later that night, Rick practically begged his wife to come back home.

"We need you," he said. "Don't you think you've been gone long enough?" Lori's responding sigh told him that she didn't think so. "Please," Rick continued. "Carl isn't adjusting well."

"Just send him here to stay with us for the summer," Lori said over the phone. "He loves Grandma Louise and Iowa is so peaceful-"

"The summer, Lori?!" Rick asked in disbelief. He hadn't been expecting their "break" to last for so long.

"Rick, I need time..."

"Then come here so we can work this out together. We should be trying to work this out as a family – not as separate people."

A long stretch of silence passed over the phone.

"...Lori?"

"...I'll think about it, Rick."

Rick almost breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't complete agreement, but it was a nudge in a positive direction. "I miss you," he muttered. 'I miss the way things were.'

"...I miss you too, Rick."

He wondered if she was sincere. "Come back home."

"I'll think about it. Call you tomorrow."

"Okay."

A click sounded and Rick knew that signaled Lori's disconnection. He leaned back into his couch and ran his hand down his face.

'I miss the way things were.' His thought came back to him.

He missed the way things were in the very beginning. Before all the arguing started. Before all the silent miscommunication, distancing, and disagreements. Before misunderstandings. Before Shane. Before Michonne.

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Michonne stood on the couch in her living room and stared at the painting hanging on her wall. The one Rick helped to hang. She tilted her head. She squinted her eyes. The abstract design in the center of the painting was _slightly_ angled. "It's not straight..." she muttered, realizing what was wrong. Amusement almost touched her features when she remembered how much Rick had struggled to hang it straight, and apparently he had still failed.

She reached out and shifted it slightly on the wall, correcting the angle.

 _'Are you messing with me?'_

 _'I don't know. Do you feel messed with?'_

Michonne remembered their past playful conversation and bit her lip. Even though she had just been pretending to be friendly with him during those times, things had been easy. Natural.

She turned around and looked at her empty house. Boxes were stacked against the wall and everything was packed up and ready to be shipped out.

She was about to say goodbye to King County.

She had accomplished everything she wanted in this brief period.

She sat down on the couch, in her large sweatshirt and tight jeans, with her legs crossed under her and she looked around.

She felt no different.

In fact, she felt worse. She was still alone.

Unwanted tears came to her eyes.

Andre was still gone. Mike was still gone. When she went back to Atlanta, she would be going back to an empty hometown. There would be no more movie nights, or family dinners, or trips to the park, or meaningless conversations about meaningless topics. "I miss him," she said aloud to no one in particular, thinking of Andre's happy and childish squeals that she would no longer hear again. Two tears streamed down her cheeks. "I miss him so much."

A loud knock sounded on the door and Michonne gasped, startled that anyone was showing up at this time of the night. She quickly wiped her tears and stood up. "Who is it?" she called through the door. There was no response, only a louder knock. "Who is it?!"

She looked through the peephole and sighed. Shane stood on the other side of the door. He was more unkempt than the last time she had seen him – his beard had grown to take up half of his face.

"What do you want?" she yelled through the door.

"Open up!"

His voice was slurred and the way he swayed from side to side told Michonne that he was drunk. "You can tell me what you want from right there," she said.

Shane scoffed from the other side of the door and continued to sway from side to side. "You...you sent the photo anyway," he slurred. "I quit my job. And now my best friend won't talk to me. And Lori's gone...they're separated! Why- why did you do that?"

Michonne rolled her eyes. "Get off of my front porch, Shane!" she called back.

"You didn't have the right!" Shane yelled.

Michonne's lip curled in disbelief. "The same way you didn't have the right to take an innocent man's life?"

"He wasn't innocent! The man was a piece of shit!" A glass bottle smashed into Michonne's door and she knew Shane must have thrown whatever liquor bottle he was holding against her residence.

She stepped away from the door, anger guiding her steps, and she went to the kitchen where she pulled a knife from the knife dock. She went back to the living room, unlocked the door, and opened it. "Get off of my front porch," she said again.

Shane's eyes traveled down to the knife in her hand and he laughed. Raising his hands up in a half-hearted show of surrender, he took a few steps back. His eyes were red-rimmed and each faltering step threatened to bring him to the ground.

"...You're disgusting," Michonne said contemptuously. "Of course you don't think you did anything wrong. You think his life didn't matter just because he made some mistakes? At least he never killed anyone. Not like you. So who's the piece of shit?"

"It was an accident," Shane declared. "I told you I'm sorry."

"Sorry's not enough."

"You want me to die? Is that it?" Shane stalked forward and grabbed Michonne's wrist. He placed the knife of her blade against his chest. "Here. Just kill me then. Will that make you feel better?" Michonne yanked against his grip and he released her wrist. Towering over her and glaring into her eyes, he spoke, "I don't give a shit about my life! But you had _no right_ to mess with them! I love Rick more than anything and Lori...I would do anything for that woman."

"Then maybe you should think about what _you_ did," Michonne challenged. "I'm not the one who kissed my best friend's wife, now did I?"

A muscle ticked in Shane's jaw. He slammed the palm of his hand against Michonne's door jamb in frustration; her fingers tightened around the knife in her hand. Shane's next words came out in a quiet fury. "You're gonna regret crossing me."

"Hey. What's going on?"

Michonne looked over Shane's shoulder to see Rick passing by in a t-shirt and jeans. She sat the knife aside on a stack of boxes just inside the door and Shane backed off from her. He made his way down the stairs, avoiding Rick's eyes. "Nothing man," he muttered as he passed him by. "Good night."

Rick watched Shane travel down the road towards his house. He hadn't seen Shane since he had punched him after seeing the photo of him kissing his wife. He had started to think that Shane had left town for a bit. Apparently not.

He turned from Shane's retreating figure to Michonne bending down to pick up shattered glass in her doorway. Her hair was in a bun and it looked like she had settled in for a night of staying in.

He sighed through his nose, hesitating for only a moment, before he made his way up her stairs and bent down to help start picking up pieces of glass. The smell of liquor hit his nostrils and a brown liquid stained the bottom half of her doorway. He figured it was Shane's work. "What happened?" he asked.

Michonne's hands stilled from picking up the shards of glass and Rick looked up to meet her eyes. She was looking at him with a curious sort of expression. He stared back at her.

"Why?" she finally asked, picking up the last of the pieces of glass. "So you can make excuses for your friend again?"

She stood up and went to throw the shards of glass away into her trash can. Rick sighed and stood up with a large part of the bottle in his hand. He hesitated at the doorway, not sure if he should follow her in. So he didn't. When she came back, he handed the glass to her.

"May I come in?" he asked.

Michonne looked up at him suspiciously. "Why?"

"I think we need to talk."

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Michonne sat an empty glass in front of Rick. He sat on a stool at her kitchen island and craned his neck to look around the empty space while she poured him some bourbon. "I was thinking I was going to have to finish this on my own," she said as she poured. "But you can help me with it."

"When are you leaving?" he asked, wrapping his hand around the glass.

"Two days from now." Michonne poured herself some in her own glass and capped the bottle. She leaned an elbow against the counter top of the island where she stood and took the glass into her hands. "Bet you'll be glad to see me go."

Rick took a drink of his alcohol. He didn't respond. He didn't say anything for the next two minutes. And Michonne didn't rush him. She took a sip of her drink.

"That night..." Rick finally said. "I shouldn't have covered for Shane."

The liquid Michonne drank burned a slow trail down her throat and she slowly put her glass down.

"I know it was wrong," Rick said, looking at his glass and not at her. "I was more worried about Shane getting a penalty than I was about telling the truth. I know it's no consolation, but I think about that night. Every day. I remember his face. I remember the moments leading up to him being shot. We were being overly cautious, he reached into his pocket, and Shane fired prematurely. It was our mistake. A _huge_ mistake, and I don't take it lightly." He brought his eyes up to meet Michonne's.

They were full of sadness and regret. She looked away.

"The sad truth is, though..." Rick continued. "That even if we would have told the truth about what really happened, Shane would have been punished, yes. He would have most likely gotten a three-week suspension because it wouldn't have been the first time he fired his weapon prematurely. But that's it. After three weeks, he would be back on the job like nothing happened." Michonne's fingers tightened around her glass and she met Rick's eyes again.

"I got away with a slight pay deduction and counseling," Rick continued. "Because it was my first error."

Anger swelled in Michonne's chest. "Someone died-"

"I know," Rick said. "It's not fair. But that's just how it is."

Michonne's hard stare dueled with Rick's compassionate one. "Why are you telling me this?" she finally asked.

"Holding onto what happened – wanting revenge - isn't going to help you heal-"

Michonne turned away from Rick, disgusted with his words. "Don't tell me you came in here to give me an inspirational speech," she said turning back to him. "Are you going to repeat back what you learned from your _counseling_?" She downed her drink and then grabbed the bottle of bourbon and poured herself another glass.

"It's the truth," Rick said. "And I don't believe you're this bad person. I don't think you get enjoyment from wrecking people's lives."

"Oh, but I do," Michonne said fiercely. "I'm giddy with the thought that _Shane_ is going to go wallow in his own bed of misery and _stink_ because he no longer has a job or you or Lori to run to!" She downed her second glass of bourbon.

"He's probably going to get his job back," Rick said, breaking her fantasy with reality.

Michonne slammed her empty glass down on the table and felt anguish and anger continue to swell inside of her like a storm that had no way of being unleashed.

"He already went to go inquire about it a few days ago. After you released the picture. They told him to take a bit of a longer break because he looks like he needs the rest, but it's highly likely that he'll be back next week."

Michonne became eerily still and quiet as Rick continued. He watched her carefully.

"You're a lawyer," he said. "This can't be the first time you've come across something like this. You had to have known this would happen."

Michonne closed her eyes, defeated. 'Of course I knew,' she thought. 'He's going to get his job back and nothing will have changed. Except Mike's dead. And Andre's gone. And I'm the only one left to suffer.' Tears threatened to leak out from beneath her eyelashes, but she kept them at bay.

"I'm not trying to hurt you with this," Rick said, breaking into her thoughts. "I'm just being up front with you. Hoping that you'll give me the same courtesy."

Michonne opened her eyes and glanced at Rick. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Did you come to King County specifically to get revenge on me and Shane?"

Michonne sighed. She was tired. Everything she had done felt meaningless. "Yes," she said. "On you. I didn't realize Shane was the one who shot Mike until after the tornado. So at first, I wanted to drive a wedge between you and Lori. To make you lose your family like I lost mine..."

Rick's heart clenched. "So you purposefully slept with me at the policeman's ball? You lied when you said you didn't remember anything..."

"Yes, I lied," Michonne said. "I remember everything. But I didn't sleep with you."

Rick's attention peaked. "What?" he asked.

"I didn't sleep with you," Michonne repeated. She poured herself some more bourbon. "I put a sleeping pill in your drink and then set it up to make it look like we slept together."

Rick stood up from his seat, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. He stared at Michonne in disbelief. "You drugged me?!" When Michonne didn't respond and she started to take another drink from her glass, Rick snatched it from her hand. Alcohol went sloshing across the counter. He finally had her attention. Her eyes snapped to his. "Do you realize how much of a piece of shit I felt like?" he asked. "I thought I broke the vows of my marriage! Lori _left_ me because of this! And it didn't even happen?!"

"Lori _left_ you because she's in love with your best friend!" Michonne snapped. "Your marriage was over _long_ before I entered the picture."

A dam of rage broke in Rick's chest and he flung Michonne's glass of alcohol against the stove. It shattered.

"Are you kidding me?!" Michonne was livid. This was the second time one of King County's "finest" had pummeled her belongings with alcohol containers.

"Ow! Shit!" Rick hissed.

Michonne looked over to see him clutching his wounded shoulder. He stood up with veins bulging from his neck and a reddened face as he tried to fight the sudden pain he felt. Michonne grabbed the bottle of bourbon off of the counter, feeling some of her anger satisfied just from seeing him in pain. 'It's what he gets,' she thought before swigging the rest of the contents of the bottle.

She walked over to her trash can and threw the empty bottle away. "I got shot because of you," Rick ground out, causing Michonne to turn to look at him again.

"I was too busy feeling like a bad husband to pay attention and I got shot."

"You can _not_ put that on me," Michonne rebutted.

Rick breathed heavily, recovering from the pain. "Lori was right; you're the cause of all of this."

Michonne sighed. All of the harnessed emotions she was feeling was starting to make her head throb. "Fine," she said. "Blame it all on me if it makes you feel better. Can you go now? I think we've talked enough."

"I don't," Rick growled. He sat back onto his stool stubbornly. "There's more I need to know."

Michonne groaned. "God, I want to just... _stop_ this."

"Well, you don't get to just stop it. Not now." There was a long moment of silence. Michonne gripped the sink and hung her head between her arms. She thought about just kicking Rick out. Or going to take a walk until he left. One of the two. "You brought my son into this," Rick continued. "He doesn't deserve to suffer like this..."

"I never wanted to hurt Carl..."

"But you knew you would. There was no way around it."

Michonne sighed. It was true. She lifted her head, realizing she wouldn't be able to get rid of Rick easily. "We're gonna need more alcohol..."

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They didn't have anymore bourbon, but Michonne managed to find a couple of beers in the cabinet underneath her kitchen sink. They were warm and tasted cheap, but Rick swallowed it down anyway. The bitter taste of the alcohol helped to mask some of the bitterness he was feeling inside.

Michonne had pulled up a stool of her own and was currently lying forward with her head on her arm. She was drowsy as she recounted what she had planned to Rick. He listened in silence, not knowing whether to resent her or feel sorry for her.

"Do you think Lori will come back to you if she knows we didn't actually have sex?" Michonne suddenly asked.

"Lori and I have been married for a long time..." Rick said. "Whatever this is, we can come back from it."

Michonne propped herself up onto her hand. "You really think so?" she asked.

"Yes," Rick answered. He took a swallow of his beer. "It's 'til death do us part."

"Hm. But is that love or just pure stubbornness?"

"It's love," Rick said with a hard stare. "And devotion. And loyalty. Stuff you wouldn't know anything about."

Michonne's brow furrowed. She was offended at his insinuation. She had felt all of those things and more for Mike and Andre. "I guess I was just wondering where all of that loyalty was when you were telling me how attracted you were to me when your wife was just one floor above us," Michonne clipped.

The muscle in Rick's jaw jumped. He was definitely feeling resentment.

He thought about getting up to leave, but something kept him pinned to his seat.

"I've never stopped loving my wife," Rick said. "You just had me confused for a while after you _lied_ about us sleeping together."

"Oh, confusion. I wonder if that's an excuse Lori would accept if she were to hear about it."

"What is _wrong_ with you?!" Rick asked. "You're like a cactus. You keep pricking and pricking and pricking just because it's in your nature, I guess."

"Then why are you still here, Rick?!" Michonne asked, sitting upright. "If I'm so bothersome to be around, why are you still here?! I've told you everything! I came to split up you and Lori, I found out Shane was actually the one I was after, I made him quit, I drove a wedge between you two, your and Lori's separation was collateral damage. That's it! That's everything! Yes, it's fucked up and yes, I don't care. I'd do it again! So why are you still here?!"

Rick stood up from his seat and drained the rest of his beer. "You're right," he said, setting it down. "I'm the idiot to still be here listening to this. Have a nice trip back to Atlanta." He stood up from his seat and stalked out of the kitchen.

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Michonne watched him leave, realizing immediately that she was going to be alone once again in her empty apartment with only her own misery to keep her company. She turned back to the kitchen island with a sigh and finished off her can of beer.

She heard Rick's footsteps approaching her again before she felt his hand grip her upper arm and turn her around. Before she could even wonder why he was back again, his lips pressed hard against her own.

Michonne dropped the empty can of beer still in her hand and it hit the floor with a clatter.

\- Thank you to everyone continuing to read this story. I appreciate all of your comments! -


	16. Chapter 16

**-** Just one author's note: Yes, this is a Richonne fanfiction. -

 **Chapter 16: Just Survive Somehow**

Rick didn't stop to think. He worked Michonne's lips open with his forceful kiss. When he nipped her bottom lip with his teeth, her lips parted enough for him to push his tongue inside. "Mmm..." he moaned. She felt better than he imagined, and he had imagined this quite a bit. From the moment she had first flirted with him on Hershel's farm to now...when she revealed that she had come to King County specifically to ruin his life.

He pulled her legs apart and pushed himself between them.

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Michonne found herself caught between wanting to pull away and wanting him to hold her tighter. There was something overwhelming about being pressed against his body and the knowledge that he was probably just as emotionally torn about this as she was.

She gripped his shirt in her hand and released the tension in her muscles, opting for the latter part of her desire.

Her tongue met his in a frenzied dance as they each fought for dominance.

Michonne hated the awakening of arousal in her body, but she welcomed it at the same time.

'This man covered for the man who killed your partner.'

Michonne kissed him harder.

'This man hates you.'

Michonne lifted her arms so that Rick could pull her shirt over her head.

She started to loosen his belt when he suddenly hissed and pulled away from her lips. With their faces still inches apart, Michonne stared at him questioningly and her hands stilled on his belt buckle. "This isn't me," Rick muttered with his eyes closed. He moved to step away, but Michonne maintained her grip on his pants. She kept him where he was. He opened his eyes to meet hers.

"I don't know what this is..." Rick continued. He stared at her earnestly...searching. Looking for whatever it was that pulled at him so strongly. "I don't know why I'm drawn to you like this, but...this isn't right. I'm married."

Michonne released her grip on him. With her allowance, Rick stepped away. His eyes swept the floor instead of her face when he spoke his next words.

"There was a part of me that was pleased when I thought I had slept with you. Even if I couldn't remember it..."

Rick felt ashamed. Relieved. And surprised. It wasn't until he spoke the words aloud that he realized they were true. Then he grew frustrated with himself. He had always considered himself a good husband. But Michonne came and started to put all of that in a tailspin.

"And the fact that you had done it under the influence absolved you a bit..." Michonne continued for him. "Unlike now...when you're operating with all of your faculties."

Rick clenched his teeth.

Michonne sighed. She could see his frustration. And she understood it. She realized then that she accomplished more than she had first believed. Now, because of her, he was questioning his integrity, his principles, and the very man he thought he was. "You should go, Rick," she said.

That was one thing Michonne and Rick agreed on, but he was curious about something.

"What about you?" he asked.

Michonne looked at him for verification. "What?"

"You kissed me back," Rick said. "Why? Don't you hate me for covering for Shane?"

Michonne was silent for a moment. She, herself, didn't quite understand what had come over her after Rick pulled her into a kiss. But she wasn't going to dwell on it. "Hate is hate," she said. "Love is love. Sex is sex."

Rick nodded, understanding exactly what she was saying. "...I'll go..." he said.

Michonne nodded and waited for him to leave. When she heard the closing of the front door, she deflated against the counter. She felt Mike's presence in the room, but she didn't turn to look for him. "Don't judge me," she commanded quietly. "I'm lonely. It's your fault for not being here for me."

She jumped down off of her stool, and bent down to pick her shirt up off of the floor. "I gotta get outta this town," she muttered to herself. She didn't know who she was here.

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A couple of days later, Carl almost turned around when he saw Michonne packing up her car. She was in jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers. Her dreads were pulled into a ponytail. It was the most casual he had ever seen her look. She was struggling with carrying a large box; he was in the midst of turning when she must have looked up and spotted him.

"Carl!"

He closed his eyes and cursed inwardly. 'Shit!'

"Carl."

He thought about ignoring her anyway, but he heard a thud and a curse behind him. She must have dropped her box of items. Begrudgingly, he turned around. "What?" he asked. She was bending down to pick up her spilled items from the ground.

"Can you come and help me with this?" she asked. "It'll only take a minute."

Carl sighed, really not wanting to help with the task, but he stalked forward anyway. When he reached her, he bent down and hastily began throwing objects back into her box.

He ignored Michonne's gaze on his face, even though he could feel her staring at him.

But that grew unbearable soon. "What?" he snapped, looking up at her.

She didn't seem phased by him snapping at her. She pointed at her eye, and he knew that she was indicating his bruise. "What happened?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said.

"Well 'Nothing' really did a number on you," she retorted.

A reluctant smile touched Carl's lips. He quickly stopped it. "That's lame," he said, narrowing his eyes at Michonne.

"You smiled anyway..." she teased.

Michonne continued to pile things back into her box, and she waited for Carl to explain some more. And she wasn't disappointed.

"Besides..." he said, throwing her name plaque haphazardly into the box. She frowned and straightened it out, trying to pack it neatly amongst the other askew items. "The other guy looks worse than me."

"You fought?" Michonne asked, digging for more information.

Carl nodded. "The guy was being a jerk..."

Michonne sighed and when the last item was packed up, she picked up her box again and stood. Carl stood as well. He went to her car and held the door open. "Well..." Michonne said. She placed the box of items inside her car and then rested her elbow on the top of the vehicle. "That may be, but fighting probably wasn't the best way to solve the problem."

Carl scowled. He barely wanted to listen to lectures from his parents, so he definitely felt like he had the right to stick his nose up at a lecture coming from someone who was about to be a stranger. "What would you know about it?" he scoffed at her.

"What do I know about fighting?" she responded back. "I know a lot."

Carl tried to keep his curiosity from being visible on his face.

But Michonne knew he was wondering. She smirked. "I fenced in college, you know."

Carl's face scrunched up in confusion. "What's fencing?"

Michonne feigned scandalized shock. "You don't know what fencing is?!" Carl shook his head. Michonne shook her head in disappointment. "Well, look it up. And after you've done that and realized how amazing I really am...then call me and we can talk about it."

Carl frowned. "I'm not calling you."

"Why not? We're friends, aren't we?"

"I'm eleven. You're old."

Michonne laughed. "So we can't be friends?"

"No, we can't."

"Well, that's too bad," Michonne said. "I liked hanging out with you a lot."

Carl looked down at the ground and fidgeted on his feet. He tried to keep from asking, but he couldn't stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

"...Then why are you leaving?"

Michonne stared compassionately at Carl. She thought over her words carefully. "Carl-" she started.

"Never mind," Carl said, cutting her off. "I don't really care."

"Yes, you do," Michonne said, talking to Carl's side profile because he had turned away. "You care because I was someone to talk to, and now I'm leaving. You may not admit that I was your friend, but you can admit that, can't you?"

Carl was silent.

"I'm sorry that you're feeling alone right now," Michonne continued. "I am too. I know what that feels like, but...I don't want you lashing out because of it."

"I'm not lashing out! I'm-" Carl didn't know what he was doing. "Mom left for no reason," he said, emotions swelling within his throat. He quickly swallowed them down so as not to cry embarrassingly in front of Michonne.

Michonne swallowed down her own rush of sadness at seeing Carl's pain. "I'm sure she had her reasons," Michonne said. "She's dealing with things just like we all are. And no matter where she is, you know she still loves you."

"Then why did she leave!" Carl asked, whirling on Michonne angrily. He was unwilling to be consoled. "Everyone's leaving and I don't get why!" He scoffed. "I'm sure it's Dad's fault. He must've done something wrong..."

"Don't blame your father," Michonne advised. She shook her head. She didn't know how she could change Carl's perspective about this whole thing. Maybe she couldn't. "Look," she said. "Just...promise me you won't get into anymore fights, okay? I don't want to have to worry about you when I'm gone."

Carl scowled but grumbled reluctantly, "I won't get into anymore fights."

"And you're not just saying that?" Michonne asked. "I'm gonna hold you to it." She held her pinkie out for a pinkie promise.

Carl scoffed but linked his pinkie with hers. "It's not like you'll know if I do or not anyway," he mumbled under his breath.

Michonne raised her eyebrow. "Oh, I'll know. Try me." They ended their pinkie promise. "But just in case..." she said. "As incentive for you to keep your promise, I'll send you a present every month. To remind you to be good."

"What present?" Carl asked, again unable to hold his curiosity.

"Well, you'll just have to wait and see," she said.

She pushed away from where she leaned against the car and Carl stood away from the door so that she could close it. Finished putting everything away and ready to leave, she turned to Carl. He still looked slightly dejected. She didn't know if she would ever feel okay about how she had affected him. "I'm sorry, Carl," she apologized.

He looked at her with a question in his eyes. "For what?"

She shrugged. "For everything." She walked around her car to the driver's side door before another thought came to her. "And, oh yeah..." She opened her door to climb inside the car. "I'm not old."

Carl nodded. "Yeah, yeah."

Michonne got into her car and started the engine. As she drove away, she watched Carl's receding figure in the side mirror. "Why did I tell him to call me?" she asked herself. "I'll send presents?" She shook her head, regretting her promises. "I should've just ended things cleanly."

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Carl went to his house and found his father eating a quick lunch on the couch.

"Oh. Carl," he acknowledged. "Where are you coming from?"

"Nowhere," Carl answered. "Michonne just left."

Rick felt a strange dropping in his heart. "...Oh..." he said. Carl was halfway up the stairs when he came back from analyzing how he felt about Michonne's departure. "Where are you going?" he asked his son.

"My room..." Carl said.

"You don't wanna sit for a bit?" Rick asked. "I have a little more time before I have to get back to work."

"No," Carl shot back.

Realizing that that came out more abrasively than he meant it, Carl stopped and turned on the stairs. "I just mean I have to go look up what 'fencing' is."

"Why? For a school report?" Rick asked.

"...Sure..." Carl said, not really wanting to explain.

"Well, I can tell you what fencing is," Rick responded. "It's that sport where you fight with swords."

Carl's eyes widened. "Swords?" The image of Michonne fighting with a sword came to his mind. "Cool!" Before Rick could say anything else, Carl was running to his room to research more about the sport.

Rick stared curiously after him. 'What's gotten into him?' he wondered.

Once he was left alone with his thoughts, his thoughts went to Michonne. 'She's gone...' he thought. 'She's really gone.' And he wondered how a woman he had only known for a couple of months could have affected him so much that he now felt like he was suffering a loss.

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 _2 Months Later_

Shane approached Rick's desk with a stack of papers in his hands. Rick ignored him until he couldn't anymore.

"Yes?" he asked, barely looking up before he was looking back at his computer screen. He was filling out a report on a traffic citation he had written earlier in the week and he normally would have welcomed any break from the tedious, menial task. But if that break came in the form of Shane, he'd rather pass.

As Rick had predicted, Shane had been given his job back with little restrictions.

"Higher-ups want some paperwork filled out. They need a few guys from the department to go up to Atlanta and work with the precinct there on some local kidnapping cases."

Rick's brow furrowed. "And they're asking for us?"

"Well, they're not really askin'; it's more like we're volunteerin'..." Rick nodded. "Yeah, the precinct up there doesn't wanna get the FBI involved or anything – it's not as high-profile as all that yet but...the kidnappings got people spooked so they want as many people on it as possible. So the chief thought this would be a good time to go in and try to get that promotion he's been lookin' for." He laughed, trying to recreate the joviality he and Rick used to share. Rick didn't laugh with him. Shane's chuckling trailed off when he noticed.

Rick held out his hand for the paperwork.

"Besides..." Shane continued, handing the paperwork to Rick. "Half their men are battling with some kind of flu that's going around...so they're desperate. They just need more bodies..."

"They askin' for anyone in particular?" Rick asked.

"Nope," Shane answered. "Just the best we have to offer. And men who can work well under pressure. 'Cause the Chief is gonna be puttin' a lot of pressure on whoever goes up. He ain't gon' want us to embarrass him."

Rick glanced up at Shane. "You wanna go?"

A hopeful grin started growing on Shane's face. "Well...I was gonna leave that decision up to you and the Chief, but...I wouldn't mind it..."

Rick knew he wouldn't. Going and doing a good job in Atlanta meant a possible promotion.

"How long would this take, do you think?" he asked. "We can't be understaffed for long. We may be a small department, but all of us have important jobs to do."

"Don't know..." Shane said. "Could go on for a while...But I don't think permanent relocation during the duration is necessary. Commuting is possible..."

Rick nodded again. "Thanks," he said, dismissing Shane.

Shane hovered near his desk. "So, you think I could get this assignment?"

Rick looked up and gave Shane a tight-lipped smile. "Probably not."

"Why not?" Shane asked.

"Because you want it," Rick responded briskly.

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Rick paced back and forth in front of the living room couch with his phone pressed to his ear. "And Carl's doing good?" he asked Lori on the other end.

"Carl's doing great!" she responded. "I think the country air is doing him some good."

"Well, we're not exactly surrounded by skyscrapers up here, Lori."

"...I know, babe."

"How much longer do you think you need?"

"When school starts again, I'll bring Carl and we'll talk face-to-face."

"At first it was 'till summer, now it's when school starts again..."

"I never said until summer. I never gave you a specific date; now I am! We'll talk when Carl's school starts again."

"We need to talk now! Do you know how many times I've had to stop myself from just going to your mother's place-?"

"I don't want to argue-"

"But I've stopped myself because you've said you needed your space."

"I don't want to argue," Lori said again more firmly. "Just...tell me about your day. What's going on with you?"

Rick had to keep from sniping back at her about not having to ask that if she was here with him. He sighed and decided to do what she asked – keep the fight at bay. "A few men have to go up to Atlanta to help with a kidnapping case. More than likely, I could be one of them. We haven't heard back yet about any specifics."

"Oh, well...that's a good thing, isn't it?" Lori asked. "You could probably get a bonus or a promotion."

"Yeah," Rick said, rubbing his hand across his forehead. "But no one knows how long this could take. And transporting back and forth between here and Atlanta could get expensive."

"Hmm...Well, I'm sure you can figure something out. Just do what you think is best. How is your arm?"

Rick rolled his shoulder. "It's better. I'm not in the sling anymore; that's a plus. I still feel soreness sometimes, though."

"Maybe you won't have to go to Atlanta because they'll take your recent recovery from an injury into consideration."

"Maybe...but I doubt it..." Rick felt a pounding in his forehead. "I feel like I need a vacation. Maybe I should just take the rest of this summer off..."

"From your job?" Lori asked. "After you just got back to work after your recovery? Would that go over well?"

"I don't know," Rick said. "I just don't feel up to being back yet. With what's going on with us...and Shane being there every time I go in...I can't go back to acting like everything's the same when everything's changed so much. Shane's always there, trying to act like everything's okay when it's not. And I just can't do that."

Lori chuckled dryly from the other end of the phone.

"What is it?" Rick asked.

"Nothing, it's just...for years, I tried to get you to take a break from work and it's my leaving that actually gets you to do it."

Rick smirked, finding dark humor in it as well. "And Shane," he said.

"And Shane..." Lori agreed. There was a moment of silence between them and she sighed. "...Do you really think it's impossible for you two to repair things?"

"I'd say it's pretty improbable, yeah."

"I just think it's such a shame," Lori said. "You two have been friends for longer than we've been married...I don't want one little mistake to ruin that. That kiss was...it was nothing. Shane would never do anything to hurt you; he loves you more than anyone."

"Well, he's already hurt me so..."

"I know, but he's trying. He told me that he's trying to make things right with you and you just-"

Rick stopped in his tracks. "What?"

Lori seemed to realize her mistake because she didn't speak for a panicked second. "You've been talking to him?!" Rick asked.

"Rick, please don't overreact. I just called to check up on him and-"

"You're talking to him!"

"Please, Rick, don't do this-"

Rick hung up the phone and threw it across the room.

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"You can just find out what they are when you go back home," Michonne said over the phone.

She was in her high-rise apartment in Atlanta and stood at the window that overlooked the skyline.

"I'm not going to be back home until school starts," Carl whined.

"Well, that sounds like your problem," Michonne teased. "I'm not the one that told you to go stay with your mother this summer."

Carl sighed. "I didn't have a choice."

Michonne laughed. "Well, either way. You'll find out what your present is when you get back to King County."

"...What if Dad throws it away?"

"Why would he?" Michonne asked. "I mark them so he doesn't even know they're from me."

Carl gave another long-suffering sigh. "I just want to know what they are."

Michonne laughed. "Be patient."

"How is Atlanta?"

"It's..." Michonne looked around her stylishly furnished apartment. It was completely different from her house in King County, but it felt the same. "What I'm used to."

She had expected to feel different...new...upon her return to Atlanta. But the truth was, that she didn't feel that. She felt as if she was mindlessly floating in a large body of water and barely managing to stay afloat.

She had immediately moved out of the old apartment she used to live in with Mike and Andre, and she had moved to this one. But she still felt the loss of them everywhere.

Well...one thing she could say for Atlanta...at least she had Andrea.

Andrea was the one of the only spots of relief in her life, which she was increasingly finding to be monotonous and pointless.

In fact, she was expecting Andrea today. They were going to eat dinner together. She looked at the watch on her wrist. She was looking forward to it. Even though she was sure Andrea would try to talk to her about reconciling with her father again. Or going to therapy. Michonne shuddered with mere disdain towards the thought.

"Okay. Michonne, I gotta go. Mom's calling me for dinner."

"Okay, kiddo. I'm hanging up."

"Can you at least give me a hint about what the present is?"

"No."

"Man ~!" Michonne chuckled. "Okay," Carl said, resigned. "Bye."

"Bye."

A knock on the door sounded and Michonne went to go answer it, wondering what she had an appetite for. She stopped in front of a hanging mirror in the hallway that led to the door and checked herself over in its reflection. Carelessly, she laid her phone down on the small table situated underneath the mirror and ran her hands down her form.

She wore a blue evening dress with straps that hung just off the shoulders and it clung to her figure nicely. Dangling earrings accentuated the frame of her face, and her hair was pulled into a stylish updo.

She sighed, satisfied. "Coming!" she called.

She flung the door open with a smile. "Let me just get my shoes on-" She stopped speaking and her smile fell in surprise when she saw that it wasn't Andrea at the door.

Rick stood there in a light blue dress shirt tucked into blue jeans.

"How did you-?" Michonne asked.

"Hate is hate. Love is love. Sex is sex. Do you still believe that?"

Michonne was too shocked to respond, but Rick didn't need her to. He stepped through her open door, causing Michonne to step back to allow him room to come inside. He slowly closed the door behind himself and kept his eyes locked on Michonne's.

"Tell me to leave if you want me to," he said. "But if you don't..."

He didn't verbally finish his sentence. The look in his eyes did it for him. Michonne's breathing grew deep. She didn't tell him to leave.

Rick locked the door.


	17. Chapter 17

\- Thank you to the two people who have already donated to my P atreon campaign! Lol. I love you so much! I thought I'd be able to see who donated so I could thank you personally, but I can't so this general thank you will have to do! And I'm going to have to think of something else I can do for you. Hope you enjoy this update!-

Chapter 17: Ugging Bumplies

Rick buried himself in Michonne's heat over and over again.

Her dress was pushed up to her waist and her panties were ripped to expose her dripping center. Rick wasn't in a much better state. The buttons that used to adorn his shirt currently littered the floor and the blue dress shirt – that used to be his favorite – hung loosely off of his shoulders. The opened dress shirt exposed a white t-shirt underneath.

His pants and boxers were on the floor, hastily kicked to the side.

After entering her home, Rick had placed Michonne on the first surface he could find. In this case, it had been the small hall table which was placed next to the wall just a couple of feet from the entrance. When she opened her legs to him, Rick wasted no time in ridding her of the thin cloth that separated her most sensitive area from him. He worked quickly so as not to let his thoughts catch up to him.

Michonne worked quickly as well.

After getting over the surprise of seeing him in her home, she welcomed him with passion.

And now Rick was inside of her. Not thinking about anything except how good it felt to sink into her while her walls clenched around him.

It was a strange feeling...being inside someone who wasn't his wife. He only knew how Lori felt when it came to intimacy and sex. Now he was experiencing it with someone else. A perverse sort of added pleasure came from that thought. He swiveled his hips in a circle to give Michonne a deep stroke. Her gasp told him that he had done something right. He repeated his movements and let himself drown in the degenerate feelings that flooded his mind and body.

Then he felt guilty for enjoying this so much. For enjoying how wet she was...how eager...and how different she felt compared to his wife. She drenched him in heat and lubrication even while her vaginal muscles pulled tightly at him. Rick gritted his teeth as Michonne held herself up and began to swivel her hips against him. He gripped her hips in his hands and watched her from under hooded lids.

He cursed himself for wanting more of her. For wanting to see her breasts bounce. He moved his hand up to the back of her dress and lowered her zipper. They paused in their frantic dance so that Michonne could push her dress down over her shoulders and bring her arms out of the short sleeves. Knowing what he wanted, she quickly unhooked her bra and threw it to the side. The top part of her dress slid down her torso and joined her skirt there, pooling at her middle like the ring of Saturn.

Rick took in the view of her exposed breasts and began to push into her again. He was rewarded with the arousing sight of her well-shaped mounds moving with each thrust.

He gripped the pooled fabric of her dress in his hand to use it as an anchor to keep him steady while he grinded into her.

He was aware of everything. The way her muscled thighs clenched against his waist with each particularly pleasurable sensation, the way her breath hitched with each stroke, and the way she bit her lip to keep loud moans at bay.

He loved it. He loved every second of it. And he hated himself for it.

He fucked her harder.

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Michonne released an uninhibited moan. She jerked forward and placed a hard kiss on Rick's lips. They kissed sloppily and deeply as he pounded into her. She didn't know what the current state was between him and his wife – only that they were still separated – and she wasn't going to ask.

This was the first time she was feeling anything other than crippling despair and numbness. If her friendship with Andrea was light, this was fire.

'Andrea...'

She glanced over to the side to see that her cell phone had fallen face-first onto the floor. It must have gotten knocked off of the table somewhere between Rick hoisting her up onto the table and where they were now. Her eyes rolled closed as Rick kissed at the spot beneath her ear, trying to bring her attention back to him. It worked. She didn't have time to think about Andrea. She turned back to him so that he could press his lips against hers once again.

It felt so good to have him inside of her. The man who helped to cover up the death of her boyfriend and the father of her son.

A mixture of disgust and anger at herself willed her to ride him harder. She wanted it to hurt, but it felt good.

"Take me to the bedroom," she prompted.

Rick lifted her effortlessly from the table and found her bedroom without too much clumsiness.

It had a sparse and modern design with the bed placed squarely in the center of the room, the headboard pressed against the wall.

Michonne had made her bed that morning, but she had a feeling that it was about to get messed up again.

Rick lowered her onto the bed and followed her with his body. He was still inside of her and didn't seem to want to break the connection.

The shirts that still hung from Rick's frame became offensive to Michonne's eyes. She wanted to see his body underneath them. Grabbing the hem of his t-shirt and dress shirt, she pulled them both up over his head. Rick raised his arms to make it easier for her and the clothing was thrown to the side.

Rick finally relented his desires and withdrew from her for a moment in order to make similar work of her dress. He pulled the wrinkled mass from her waist and down past her hips and legs before tossing it to the side as well.

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With Michonne lying naked beneath him, Rick felt that what they were doing was an inevitable culmination of everything he had been feeling since they first met. He wanted her and he had wanted her for a while. That moment when he had made love to his wife and imagined that he was making love to Michonne wasn't just an innocent fly-by-night fantasy. It was his sincere desire making itself known.

And now that she was really here underneath him - naked and squirming for his touch...the woman he blamed for everything going so wrong – he wanted to destroy her. He wanted her to break underneath him. To cry and scream his name.

Rick was surprised by his delinquent thoughts, but he embraced them all the same.

He was a different person here with Michonne. He had abandoned his principles at the door. He wanted her, hated her, sympathized with her so much...There was nothing he could do but to lose himself inside of her. She was the only other person who could even somewhat understand what he was feeling because he was sure she was feeling just as tumultuous as he was.

She raised her hips, giving him the hint that she was impatient for him to fill her again.

He didn't give her what she wanted. He kept himself stilled at her entrance, torturing her. Staring into her eyes defiantly, he could see the moment when she realized what he was doing. A stubborn spark lit her eyes and it became a battle of wills concerning who would give in first.

Rick trembled in an effort to keep himself still and Michonne undulated against the air, reaching for some unrealized satisfaction. Her pussy lips brushed against his hardened member as she moved and Rick felt a shock of pleasure from that small contact alone. The act of denying himself was working against him, making him more and more aroused. Seeing his weakness, Michonne rubbed her slit against him again.

"You came all the way here and you're not going to fuck me, Rick?" she asked.

A growl of desire left Rick's throat.

He covered her lips with his for what felt like the hundredth time and pushed his tongue into her mouth. Michonne opened her lips wide and accepted everything he gave. She moaned and pushed her tongue against his own.

The taste of her tongue wasn't enough.

He broke free and kissed his way down her body. Before Michonne could fully adjust to his sudden change of tactic, he was fiercely eating her out.

Michonne's mouth fell open and she raised her head to look down at Rick, hard at work, between her thighs. He pressed his tongue against her and inside of her. A small scream came from Michonne's throat and he felt her grab his hair. When he closed his lips over her clitoris and gently circled it with his tongue, Michonne's hips pushed into the air.

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Michonne's eyes closed with pleasure and she pressed herself hard into the bed sheets, trying to bring herself back to reality.

The man she had once vowed revenge against...his head was buried between her thighs. And she hated it - he lapped up her juices like she was a ripe fruit – that was a lie. She loved it!

She thrashed her head to the side, trying to forget that it was Rick making her feel these things. 'Sex is sex' was a simple concept in theory. But in practice, it was...She gasped...Rick rubbing his fingers against her clit while he flicked his tongue between her vagina lips. "Stop," she gasped out.

She felt weak. She was enjoying this too much.

Rick pulled away from her and looked into her eyes. "What is it?" he asked, breathing heavily.

His hot breaths fanned against Michonne's sensitive, passion-swollen lips and she wanted to push his face right back where it had been, but she couldn't. She was afraid of the pleasure driving out the pain. She hadn't known that it would be this intense. That it would feel this good. She had to remember Andre and Mike. Even while she was with him. Especially while she was with him. They were still dead. She didn't deserve to feel so good.

"Fuck me," she said. "Hard."

She was pleased that Rick didn't need to be asked twice. His blue eyes hard with lust, he crawled back over her body and lined himself up between her legs. When his engorged penis touched her hot center, he met her eyes one more time before sinking himself into her again.

Michonne groaned with pleasure as her body stretched to accommodate him. He seemed to be even bigger than he had been before.

"Hard, Rick," she reminded him.

Again, he quickly obliged. He withdrew from her almost completely and then pushed back into her hard and deep.

Michonne felt one hundred percent pleasure. He repeated the stroke and Michonne's eyes rolled closed. Her fingers grasped his back. "Again," she coaxed. "Harder."

Rick wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her hips off of the bed for deeper entry. He pushed into her harder and faster. "Like that?" he asked as he watched her face tick in pleasure. Her once neat updo was now falling in loose, messy tendrils against the white sheets.

"Yes," Michonne gasped back. There was nothing but pleasure. Pain was elusive and out of her reach. She was starting to wonder if it was even possible to feel pain at Rick's hands. But she was getting past the point of caring. The more she felt it, the more she selfishly longed for the pleasure. She gyrated her hips against Rick's thrusts. "Yes, yes, yes," she moaned.

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Rick felt pride to see Michonne's obvious pleasure.

The times when she was cold and distant with him in the past came to his mind while he made her moan in the present. It stroked his ego.

He lifted her off of the bed and sat back with his legs stretched out before him so that she straddled him. There was no period of adjustment with the position change. Michonne immediately and smoothly moved into the groove of riding him.

"God," Rick groaned, marveling at her.

She wrapped her legs around Rick's waist and they rocked together face-to-face.

Rick trailed his fingers across her back, down her sides, along her legs. Her skin was velvety smooth and he wanted to touch all of her. He moved his hands back up to her breasts and grasped them before taking one into his mouth and then the other.

Michonne's head fell back and she rode against him faster, enjoying the sensation of his tongue circling her nipples.

Somewhere along the way, Rick forgot that he was even angry. He forgot that he felt guilty. He even forgot that he sympathized.

The past they shared disappeared and for a while, nothing else really mattered.

Michonne wrapped her arms around Rick's neck and they shared a tight embrace as they thrust together. Rick let his hand slide down Michonne's back to grip her hip in his hand. It turned him on to feel the movement of her bouncing against him. He gently bit her neck between his teeth. He was about to move his lips up to do the same thing to her ear when there was a knock on the door.

They both immediately froze. Rick had the crazy fear that he was about to be caught by someone he knew. And he was halfway right.

"It's Andrea," Michonne said quickly, realizing it right before Andrea's voice called through the front door.

"Michonne?"

"What?!" Rick asked incredulously.

"Don't worry!" Michonne said. "We were supposed to go out to dinner. We'll just wait until she leaves."

"You didn't think to call and cancel?" Rick whispered back.

"Don't blame this on me!" Michonne argued back. "I thought about it, but your dick was inside me!"

"Michonne?!" Andrea's voice called again.

Rick sighed. He was surprised that his erection hadn't gone down yet, but it seemed his body still wanted Michonne even through the surprising situation. "Well, is she going to leave soon?" he asked, once again cursing himself for even being here.

"I don't know," Michonne said with a shrug. Sometimes Andrea could be pretty stubborn.

"Michonne! I'm coming in!"

Michonne gasped and jumped off of the bed as she heard keys jingling and then the door opening. She reached the bedroom door, closed it, and locked it just as she heard the front door close.

"You gave her a key?!" Rick whispered in despair. He had quickly jumped to grab a pillow to cover his erect penis just in case Michonne didn't get to the door in time.

Michonne shrugged again, not appreciating being judged. "She's my best friend!" she whispered. There was no reason she could think of why she shouldn't give Andrea a key. At the time, she didn't know that she'd be having an affair with a man she claimed to hate.

"Michonne?" Andrea's voice was right at the door. The door handle jiggled. "You in there? What are you doing? We planned for dinner, remember?"

Rick looked here and there. He didn't know what to do or where to go.

A more frantic jiggling of the door handle occurred. "Michonne?"

Michonne closed her eyes tight, knowing there was nothing she could do but respond. "I'm in here," she said. She searched for what to say. "Give me a minute; I'm getting ready."

Rick gave her a devastated look that she didn't know how to respond to until he removed the pillow and showed her his shaft which was still standing at attention.

"Oh, thank God," Andrea was saying while Michonne signaled to Rick that she was at a loss for what to do. "You had me worried for a minute. Open the door."

"Um- I- I really don't like what I'm wearing," Michonne called to Andrea. "Give me twenty more minutes."

"I can help you pick something out," Andrea responded. "Open the door."

Rick gritted his teeth. If this wasn't the most frustrating woman!

"No," Michonne said. "I don't need any help; I wanna surprise you. Go ahead to the restaurant and get us a table."

"You wanna surprise me?" Andrea laughed. "What am I, your date?"

Michonne forced a laugh, just anxious to get Andrea out of there. "Haha. That's funny. Now go get us a table!"

"Alright..." Andrea finally said. Rick almost could have celebrated. "But speaking of dates, you agreed to go on a double date with me next week, remember? Don't forget. I think it'll do you good."

"Okay!" Michonne agreed, wishing Andrea would leave already. "I got it. Now go. Before there are no tables left."

"Alright. I'll see you there. And don't be too late." Before long, Rick and Michonne heard the opening and closing of the front door – indicating Andrea's departure.

Rick breathed a sigh of relief and he wondered if they should even continue. But his wondering was put to rest with Michonne's next words...

"Well...we only have twenty minutes..."

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Andrea's interruption hadn't doused the passion they had for each other but it did bring their shared histories to come barreling back up to meet them.

Rick entered Michonne from behind and all he could think about was his guilt. It didn't dim the fire. Nothing dimmed the fire. But he knew he would suffer later. When he was back home, alone, with just his thoughts.

But that was later. This was now.

He leaned over her back and slid his hand between her thighs to play with her sensitive bud of nerves while he thrust into her.

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Michonne spread her legs wider, welcoming his touch.

She loved the feeling of him being draped over her. She turned her head to capture his lips in a kiss. It was a sloppy kiss due to their positions, but Michonne was okay with that.

Like Rick, Andrea's presence had once again brought Michonne's guilt to the forefront. She thought of Mike lying dead in the street. What would he think about his girlfriend on her hands and knees right now, getting fucked by one of the cops that was there? She tried to push the thought from her mind as she grinded back against Rick's thrusts.

"Harder," she started her mantra again.

Rick applied more pressure to her clitoris and followed her command.

Michonne moaned, her thoughts flitting away for a moment only to come crashing back.

"Harder!" she said again, wanting that reprieve one more time.

Rick drew air between his teeth as he drove into her as hard and fast as he could. He increased the speed of his hand between her legs.

"Oh, God! Yes!" Michonne screamed. Her arms lost their strength and she sank down to press her face into the sheets while continuing to respond to Rick's thrusts.

All thoughts were gone from her mind. Pleasure drowned everything out.

Rick sat back up onto his knees and held her hips as she pushed back against him wildly.

"I'm coming!" she moaned.

Rick felt arousal all the way up from his loins to his chest. He tried to keep his eyes open to watch her, but his gaze was hazing over with lust as his own climax drew near. His breathing ragged, he continued to hold on as she continuously engulfed him to the hilt until they were no longer even drawing away from each other. They stayed connected with Rick completely buried in her while their hips moved together in a circular motion.

A loud moan escaped Michonne's lips and when she was one second away from her orgasm, Rick returned his hand to her clitoris and helped to push her over the edge.

"Yes! Rick!" she screamed.

Her back arched, her walls clenched around him, and his member and fingers became wet with her juices.

Rick clenched his eyes shut in an attempt to keep himself under control while he stayed inside of her long enough for her to ride out her climax. He couldn't stop the involuntary thrusts of his hips in those last few seconds though.

Rick felt himself about to orgasm and drew himself from her heat. She circled her hips teasingly and Rick released his seed onto her hips.

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Michonne rushed to clean herself up while Rick pulled his clothes on.

The guilt was already weighing heavily on him; he didn't know where to go from here.

When Michonne came back into the room - wearing the dress she had been in when he arrived - and asked him to zip her up, he did so on autopilot.

She glanced at him as she started to pin her hair back up.

"Don't shut down on me," she eventually said. "What are you thinking about?"

Rick glanced up at her for only a second before confessing, "I think my marriage is over..."

"And you don't want it to be?"

"I don't know what I want..." Rick said. "I thought we were always going to be together..."

Michonne was silent. Rick looked up to see a sadness in her eyes as she looked at herself in the mirror. She had gone off somewhere else in her mind.

"I'm sorry," he said, realizing he was the last person she probably wanted to hear complaints from. "You probably felt the same way about Mike."

"No," she said. "It's okay. You can talk about it if you want."

Rick looked at the digital clock on the nightstand. "But we don't have anymore minutes..."

Michonne followed his line of sight. The numbers glared unapologetically. "No..." she said. "I guess we don't."

Rick stood up from the bed and Michonne felt some regret watching him leave. She'd come back home tonight and the apartment would be just as empty as ever. She'd wonder if what happened even really happened.

"Oh, by the way," she said, stopping him. "How did you know where I live?"

"I'm a cop," Rick said with a shrug. "I looked you up."

Michonne frowned. "You're not supposed to look someone up unless you suspect them of something."

"I did suspect you of something..." Rick said.

Michonne looked at him questioningly.

"The packages addressed to my son coming to my house?"

Michonne rolled her eyes. "I left the return address off of those..."

"Like I said," Rick said with a teasing smirk. "Suspicious."

"Do you want me to stop sending them?" she asked.

"Depends. What are they?"

"It's not fair for you to know before he does."

"Fine," Rick said. "I'll wait to see what they are before I make any judgments. 'Till then, you can keep sending them."

Michonne smiled. "Thank you."

Rick shook his head, amazed at how easy it was to fall into easy chatter with her.

"One more thing-" Michonne said as he began to walk out.

"Hmm?"

"Is Shane back at the police station."

Rick sighed. "Michonne-"

"I just want to know," she said. "I won't do anything crazy; I promise."

Rick considered her for a moment before nodding. "Yeah," he said. "He's back at work."

Michonne nodded. "Okay."

Rick studied her. "You okay?"

Michonne nodded again. "Yeah. I'm okay."

Rick took her word for it and turned towards the door again before one more thing he thought he needed to mention came to his mind. "Oh," he said. "And this...this can't happen again."

"I know, Rick. Bye."

"...Bye."

Rick left and closed the door behind him.

\- Lol. Rick and Michonne don't know whether they hate each other or what.

Due to trying to get started on P atreon , I'm going to be keeping my updates weekly. Check back here for new Loss and Gain updates every Saturday, and look for me on P atreon. -


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18: We Have Common Interests**

"It was nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too."

"We're glad to have you and will enjoy working with you."

Rick shook hands with the head of the Atlanta PD and finished saying his goodbyes.

As expected, he and a few others had been temporarily pulled from their division in King County to help the understaffed Atlanta department solve what was more and more becoming a high profile case. Shane had been assigned to the case as well – against Rick's recommendation – but, thankfully, he was assigned with keeping tabs on King County and the other rural areas in Georgia to make sure the criminal wasn't hiding out there. That meant a lot of desk work and paperwork – things Shane hated. He preferred the heat and excitement of working in the field. So he wasn't happy with the job he had been assigned. And since he wasn't happy, Rick was.

He exited the building through the front door and looked up at the multiple-storied location. It was definitely a different environment than what he was used to in King County.

They would be getting briefed on the case in the next two days.

He hoped they would be able to wrap up the case in about two weeks. Then he could make it back home in time for Lori and Carl's visit. And they could talk.

His escapade with Michonne had been on his mind ever since it had happened. When he got back home, he looked back at the events and felt as if they almost weren't real. She was physically distant from him. So was his wife. In a situation like that, it was easy to trivialize what he had done.

Or so he had thought for the first few minutes.

Then it wouldn't leave his mind. And incessant questions plagued him...

How am I going to tell Lori? Do I tell her at all? What's the point if we're going to divorce anyway? Wouldn't I just be meaninglessly hurting her feelings? Are we going to divorce? Why did I do it?

And the most annoying question of all...

Is she okay?

He knew he should resent Michonne for everything she had caused to happen, but he also wondered how she was dealing with the aftermath of what they had done. He knew she still probably partially blamed him for what happened to her boyfriend and son. Did she now feel as guilty as he did?

He had gotten back and suffered through all of these queries in the silence and solitude of his quiet King County home.

Working helped keep the thoughts at bay.

So when the chief called and told him that he had received an offer to work on this case, he gladly took it.

The thought that he would be working in the same city as Michonne hadn't even crossed his mind until he hung up the phone. Or at least that's what he told himself.

As his mind wandered on the streets of Atlanta, his phone vibrated in his pocket – an indication that he was receiving a call.

Lori's name glowed on his screen.

"Hello?" he answered.

"I got your message about being assigned to a job in Atlanta. When do you think you'll be back?"

"I don't know," he responded. His night with Michonne pounded in the back of his mind. Questions about their relationship pulled at his tongue. But he knew he needed to wait. He had to wait until they could speak face-to-face. "Hopefully in about two weeks."

"Well, let me know when you get back," Lori said. "I'll start to head down there myself and we can talk things over."

"...Alright," Rick said, not quite knowing how to feel. A big change in his life was about to occur and he didn't know whether it was for the best or the worst. "Okay. I'll let you know."

"And Rick?" Traffic whizzed by, making Lori's voice sound tiny and distant. "The fact that I've spoken with Shane...there's nothing going on there. I promise. I love you."

There was a time when 'I love you' came naturally and seemed second nature like breathing to the two. Now the words sounded so strange to Rick's ear, and he had trouble forming the words to repeat it back. "Alright..." he said. "We'll talk when I get back."

"Bye, Lori..."

"Goodbye, Rick."

They hung up and Rick sighed. He could use a drink.

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Michonne put on her earrings and examined how they looked in the mirror. They were simple, diamond studs and they looked great paired with her peach-colored mini dress. The dress's neckline dipped to expose the bare minimum of her cleavage and it clung to her figure. The hem of the dress landed right above her knees. It was tasteful yet welcoming of a wandering gaze.

"I'm surprised you're not fighting me on this," Andrea said as she walked out of Michonne's bedroom, crowding close so that she could examine her own reflection in the mirror. "The week before last you were telling me how much you didn't want to go out."

Michonne glanced at Andrea and shrugged. "I changed my mind."

"Good. 'Cause I really want you to meet this guy. He used to be a pro football player. I think you two will really hit it off."

Michonne frowned. "What made you think that?" she asked. "Is there anything about me that says I'd be into an athlete?"

"Uhh...Who isn't into a pro athlete? They have tons of money and are well-built-"

"And they're serial cheaters."

Andrea tsked and shoved Michonne from her advantageous spot in front of the mirror and took her place. "That's a myth."

Michonne rolled her eyes and allowed Andrea to keep the mirror to herself. "How do you know? Have you dated a pro athlete?"

"No. But I dated a lot of them in college."

"The whole team?" Michonne teased.

Andrea gave an exaggerated, offended gasp. "Bitch." She brushed her hair out of her face with her fingers and mumbled... "There were two who rode the bench that I never touched."

Michonne chuckled. "That's not giving me a lot of faith in athletes' fidelity."

"Don't worry," Andrea said. "This guy you're meeting is a teddy bear."

"I'm not really worried," Michonne said, running her hand over her dress to make sure it was free of wrinkles. "I'm not really meeting this guy with hopes of him being the next love of my life or anything..."

"Why not?" Andrea asked.

They were in Michonne's apartment, preparing to go out on the double date that Andrea had planned. She went to grab her clutch from Michonne's gray, wraparound sofa that sat in the corner of the living room and spread to the middle. A low, glass coffee table stood in front of the sofa on top of a plush gray rug and an entertainment center housing a 40" flat-screen stood in front of that. The rest of the room was bare, minimal, and modern.

"I think you two would be great together..." Andrea finished.

"I'm not exactly looking for a relationship..." Michonne said.

"Then what are you looking for?" Andrea asked. Michonne didn't answer – she was too busy looking around for her own clutch – but Andrea didn't need a response. She figured it out the minute her question left her mouth. She gasped and grabbed Michonne's arm. "A one-night stand?"

Michonne smiled, letting her friend know she had gotten the right answer.

Andrea scoffed. "Really?" she asked, disappointed. "I mean...I'm not knocking a good one-night stand, but...I worked so hard to make this date happen! If you just wanted a one-night stand, why not just go swiping around on Tinder!"

"That's a good idea..." Michonne replied, pointing her finger at Andrea.

Andrea frowned. "Can I ask why, all of a sudden, you're deciding to re-open for business?"

"I just think it's time..." Michonne said with a nod.

In truth, she had been in a perpetual state of arousal ever since a week ago - after her tryst with Rick. Everything in her house reminded her of the way he smelled, moved, and felt as he transported her into glorious oblivion. Thinking about that night, kept her from thinking about Mike. It kept her from thinking about Andre. And it kept her from driving herself crazy, wondering what she was going to do without them.

A continued dalliance with Rick wasn't possible, so she figured anyone would do. As long as she didn't have to live in her memories for a couple of hours.

Intellectually, she knew that she was longing to fill some kind of void but, emotionally, she didn't care. Thanks to Rick, she had found a temporary fix for her constant turmoil and she was going to indulge.

"Okay..." Andrea said with a resigned sigh.

"Where are we going?" she asked Andrea, as she followed the other woman out of the house.

"Ricky's Bar. It's six in the evening; they start their best service around this time..."

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"-And that was my record before I injured my knee..."

Michonne nodded, trying to feign interest in Tyreese's history, but it was hard. She had no interest in football and even less interest in a forty-minute conversation about it – which is how long Tyreese had been going on about his sports background. She had simply said, "I heard you used to play football," and he was off to the races. She, as discreetly as possible, turned her wrist to glance at the time and winced. She had given him undue credit. It was seven. He had been talking for a whole hour.

She glanced around in search of Andrea. She wanted to groan when she saw her still standing at the bar with her own date – a charming, tall banker named of Phillip.

"So, how do you and Phillip know each other?" she asked, eager to get him on any topic other than football. And satisfying her small curiosity about how the large man sitting in front of her and the bookish charmer talking up her friend got to know each other seemed like a good enough way to derail him.

"Oh," Tyreese chuckled at an older memory. "He's the only banker at my old bank who would give me a loan. I'm trying to start up my own management company, see. To manage other players-"

'Oh no,' Michonne thought, keeping her smile pasted on. 'Back to football.'

She smiled through it as he began to talk about a college rookie that he had his eye on. But when he started listing stats again, she began to look around for the server. Her martini glass had emptied a while ago.

She wondered if she even wanted to go through with her plans to sleep with him. Her libido was dying with each stat listing. But then she thought about how she would spend her night if she didn't go through with it. Another night of sleepless depression.

She would take a night of sex any day. Besides...if she could get him to stop talking about football, maybe he would actually be some kind of fun.

As her eyes traveled around for the bartender, they froze on someone else. At first she thought her mind was playing tricks on her, but when the man at the bar angled himself to look at the television mounted on the wall, she knew that what she saw was correct. It was Rick. Sitting at the bar.

Michonne's brow furrowed. 'What is he still doing in Atlanta?' she wondered.

Her eyes slid to Andrea who was still entranced in whatever Phillip was saying. She hadn't seen Rick, who was sitting at the other end of the bar. Yet.

Tyreese's cell phone began to ring and Michonne looked over to see him pull it out of his back pocket and stare at the incoming call. It couldn't have rung at a more perfect time. He looked up at Michonne for permission and she waved him off. "Go. Take it."

"You sure?" Tyreese asked.

"Yeah," Michonne said.

"Okay. I'll be right back. Just-" He held his hands out to tell her to wait there and Michonne nodded. When he left the booth and walked out of the bar to take the call, she slid out of the booth herself. To go talk to Rick.

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Rick fiddled with the phone in his hand, turning it over and over again on top of the bar while he kept his eyes busy with the random baseball game playing on the television screen mounted above the bar. In the back of his mind, though, he kept thinking of one thing.

Michonne. Michonne. Michonne.

Her name was a steady beat that pounded along with the generic country song that was pounding out of the speakers and filling the bar with underlying sound with which everyone measured their voices against as they tried to shout over it.

He had spent his whole life working in law enforcement and this was the first time that he was getting some kind of idea about how drug addicts might feel.

He knew he shouldn't and he had told himself he wasn't going to, but he also had this strange awareness that he was powerless.

He was in Atlanta. She was in Atlanta. And she was only a phone call away.

There was a chance she would reject him, but there was also a chance that she might invite him over. And that chance was much too tantalizing to ignore...

He picked up his cell phone.

"Still in Atlanta, I see."

Rick turned around to see the exact person he had been thinking about standing right next to him. His eyes automatically took all of her in. She looked beautiful, as always. "Oh," he said, pleasantly surprised to see her but also blindsided by her sudden appearance. "Hi." There was no choice of changing his mind now.

"Oh, hi?" Michonne repeated. "I don't know what I was hoping for, but I think it was more than that."

"What are you doing here?" Rick asked, still surprised at the coincidence of meeting her there.

"I live here," Michonne responded. "What are you doing here?"

Rick glanced around at the surroundings. "You live in the bar?"

Michonne smiled at his smart-ass remark. "You know what I mean."

Proud of his own humor, Rick shrugged. "I'm here for work."

"Oh?" Michonne said, interested. "What kind of work has you up here?" She leaned against the bar and Rick tried to keep his eyes on her face even though her body curved becomingly.

"I don't know if I'm supposed to say," Rick said. He tore his eyes away from Michonne for a moment to give the bartender, who sat his drink down in front of him, a nod of thanks.

"Top secret..." Michonne bit her lip. Her libido was raging back to life. "I bet that's how you hook all the girls."

The same recklessness that had Rick driving four hours to Michonne's apartment last week overtook him and he hitched an eyebrow. "Have I hooked you?" he asked, freely returning her flirtatious remark with his own.

Michonne shifted on her feet, her desire burning a hole through her panties.

She glanced up to make sure Andrea was still unaware of Rick's presence. She was. Her eyes went to the front door of the bar and she saw Tyreese coming back in. "Shit," she cursed.

"What?" Rick asked. He followed her gaze.

"My date's back," Michonne said. "I'll be right back."

"What? Date?" Rick didn't have time to ask anymore questions. He watched Michonne make her way back to her table and her...date.

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"Sorry about that," Tyreese said as he met Michonne at the table again.

"It's okay," Michonne replied. "Hope everything's okay."

"It's not actually," Tyreese said. "It's her boyfriend's birthday tomorrow and she's making me plan this whole big guy's night out. And the place I reserved just cancelled on me. I gotta go; I'm so sorry..."

Michonne watched a flustered Tyreese gather his things. "It's okay," she said, appreciating the perfect timing once again. It saved her from trying to graciously end the night with him early. "Let me know how everything goes." She could have kicked herself for saying that.

"I will," Tyreese responded. "Can I get your phone number?" He held out his phone so she could key in her number.

Eager to end the night quickly and deal with it all later, Michonne gave him her number and handed the phone back to him.

"Thanks," he said with a smile. He typed in a quick message and she heard her phone 'ding'. "That's me," he said. Michonne nodded. "Rain check on this, okay?"

"Okay."

He went to say goodbye to Phillip and Andrea – who sent Michonne a woeful expression. Michonne signaled to her friend that she was okay. But that didn't stop Andrea from breaking away from the goodbyes to personally see to her. "Are you okay?" she asked. "What are you gonna do?"

"I'll just walk around Atlanta for a bit," Michonne said. "Get some fresh air."

Andrea pouted. "Sucks that he had to go...Did you like him?"

"He was..." There was a lot Michonne wanted to say, but she didn't have time at the moment; she just lied. "Yeah."

Andrea looked back at Phillip regretfully but then turned back to Michonne with a resigned sigh. "I'll go with you-"

"No," Michonne said. "No. I see that you're enjoying yourself. Just...Go. Keep talking to him. I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

She finally convinced Andrea to go back to her date and she sighed with relief. Turning to the other end of the bar, she saw that Rick was still there, glancing over his shoulder at her. She saw an exit in the back and pointed towards it before she picked up her things and left the bar, hoping Rick would follow.

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Rick drained his glass of alcohol and sat it down on the counter. He placed a couple of bills beside the drink and then stood up, heading out the direction Michonne had just left.

When he stepped out into the back parking lot of the club, he was greeted with emptiness. At first he thought, Michonne must have played some sort of trick on him, but then he turned his head and saw her standing against the wall underneath a single street light mounted next to the door.

"This the double date Andrea mentioned last time?" he asked.

Michonne pushed away from the wall and walked toward him. "Yes, it is. And speaking of Andrea, it's probably best if she doesn't see you. That's why I wanted to meet you in the back."

Rick's brow furrowed. "Why shouldn't she see me?"

Michonne shrugged. "She'll only ask a lot of questions."

"So just tell her I'm here for work."

"Then she'll want to know how I know that."

"Tell her I told you."

"She'll want to know why you told me, why we're still talking."

"Then tell her it's none of her business," Rick joked.

"In Andrea's opinion, everything is her business."

Rick chuckled. Michonne was right in front of him now. His smile died and a more serious expression came over his face. He knew why she asked him out here. His gaze fell to her lips. "Did you like him?" he asked.

"Who?" Michonne's eyes were drawn to Rick's lips as well.

"Your date."

Michonne moved closer to Rick until her chest was brushing his. "There are other ways I'd rather spend my time."

Rick didn't need a stronger invitation. He placed his hands around Michonne's waist and drew her closer to him so that she was flush against his chest. Then he lowered his head and pushed her lips open with his own, engaging her in a deep kiss.

Inevitable. Like aging. Or the sun rising. That's what coming together with Michonne felt like. Every time.

His hands traveled down to lay over Michonne's hips.

Neither heard the back door opening until the intruder spoke. "Michonne? Is that you?"

Michonne and Rick broke apart and turned toward the voice. It was a light-skinned African American man who was obviously drunk off his rocker due to the way he was swaying side from side. Rick felt Michonne tense in his arms and he looked toward her. The look on her face told him she knew who this was, but it also told him this wasn't a welcome friend.

"I thought that was you I saw walking outta the bar! What are you doin' here?! I haven't seen you in a minute! And who is that?!" He drunkenly staggered toward Rick, trying to peer closer at his face.

"Who is this?" Rick asked Michonne, wondering if he should be on alert.

"It's Terry," Michonne responded. "One of Mike's old friends."

"Do we not like him?" He was ready to adopt Michonne's viewpoint of this guy, whatever it was.

"If he gets near me, I'll kill him," Michonne said, letting Rick know all he needed to know.

\- Want more of where this came from? Find me on P atreon (search for Lyra Verse) and donate to the writing cause. :D -


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19: I Was Gonna Fix It...I Was Gonna Put It Back Together**

"Just hold it right there, sir," Rick commanded, holding his hand out to stop the drunken man from coming any closer.

The night air was muggy and oppressive. It hung thick and clung to the skin, almost like a heavy rain had passed or was soon to come. It would have been deathly quiet if not for the loud music pounding distantly from the bar a few feet away from them.

Michonne was still snuggled close to Rick's body – a result evidencing their liplocking embrace before they were interrupted. And Rick could feel how tense she was. She moved in closer to him and he glanced at her once more. She still wore the same expression as she had before. A tightened and hardened mask withholding what could only be anger and pain just beneath the surface. Her eyes were the only hints of that – wide with a spark of fire.

Rick knew she wasn't the type of woman to have anyone else fighting her battles so he wasn't sure if she was trying to manipulate his protective instincts, but whether she was purposefully attempting it or not – they had risen.

"What?" the drunken man asked, stopping in his tracks and swaying. "Now, hold on, now." He was seemingly offended from having been stopped before he could properly greet them. "Michonne, it's me. Terry! You know me."

"Maybe she doesn't want to know you," Rick admonished, keeping his arm out as a visual barrier that signaled to the man that he shouldn't take another step in their direction.

Michonne squeezed Rick's arm, obviously trying her best to ignore the other man's presence. "I'm going to the front; meet me there."

"Okay," Rick responded.

She took a wide berth of Terry and started to make her way back toward the front of the club.

"Wait," he said. He attempted to take a step toward her, but Rick quickly moved to block him. "You still mad about what happened?" Michonne quickened her pace to leave the area with Terry still shouting after her. "I mean, I know-I know you are, but...I'm sorry! I told you I was sorry! I thought we could talk about it!"

Rick held him back with his arm until he saw that Michonne had disappeared around the building. He turned to the drunken man and winced at the strong smell of alcohol that was permeating off of him and the redness of his eyes. "You know," he commented. "If you wanted to talk about something, it would help if you weren't slurring every word."

Terry closed his eyes and stumbled backwards. "I fucked up," he said. "Man, I fucked up." His eyes focused on Rick when he opened them. "You close to her?"

Rick raised his eyebrows. How was he to answer that question? He wasn't sure how to answer it.

"Look, man, if you are just...just tell her I'm sorry, okay? And I wanna talk so...can you-?" He pulled a notepad and pencil from his back pocket and began to write something down. "Can you give her my number?" He ripped the piece of paper with his number on it free and held it out to Rick. Rick looked at the paper, not sure if he should take it. "I've been goin' to therapy and shit," Terry said. "She said I gotta talk all this shit out."

Rick finally relented and took the paper. He was curious about the role Terry played in Michonne's life, but he wasn't sure if he had the right to ask. "I'll give it to her," Rick said, folding the piece of paper and tucking it into his pocket. "I wouldn't hold my breath on her calling you, though."

Terry nodded and stumbled on his feet again.

"And maybe it's time for you to go home," Rick instructed. "Sober up."

"Alright, man. I got it, I got it."

"Do I need to call someone?" he asked.

"No," Terry replied. "I came with a friend." He gestured toward the bar.

"Alright," Rick said.

"You...you make sure to give Michonne my number," Terry repeated.

"I will."

"Alright. I'll see you later, man." He started to make his way back to the bar. Rick watched him stumble a few steps and then he started to make his way back to the front of the building, where he knew Michonne was waiting for him.

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Michonne paced impatiently at the front of the bar. The night of finding out about her son's death was flashing in her mind and threatening to overwhelm her. It was coming back to her in waves.

'What's taking him so long?!' Michonne wondered, frustrated at Rick because he didn't follow immediately behind her.

When he finally emerged from the shadows of the building, she released a tightened breath. "There you are," she said as she approached him. She wasted no time in pressing her lips against his and picking right back up where they left off.

Rick responded to her kiss and when she pulled back, they were both breathing heavily.

"Follow me home," she prompted.

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She felt just as good the second time around – if not better.

Michonne's hands grasped Rick's hips as he sank into her. Their breaths mingled and their skin – clammy – stuck together.

Of course Rick was beating himself up for not sticking to his own proposed resolution of not falling into bed together again, but...there was always tomorrow, right?

Rick lifted Michonne's hips for deeper access and bit at the skin of her neck. "You're so beautiful," he whispered.

Michonne moaned and met his thrusts with her own.

They grinded toward a climax together and when their built tension reached a point of overflowing, Rick quickly extracted himself and allowed his seed to spill out onto the sheets below. Michonne writhed her way through her own orgasm until the waves of pleasure finished shooting through her body.

Rick fell down onto the bed beside her and they both breathed heavily, recovering from their tryst.

Michonne chuckled, feeling somewhat exhilerated from the experience. "How long are you going to be in Atlanta?" she asked.

"I don't know yet," Rick answered. "A couple weeks?"

"Then we should meet a few more times," Michonne said, not hesitating in her proposal. She turned over onto her side to face Rick and propped her head up onto her hand. "What do you think?"

Surprised, and a bit in awe of her lack of reservations, Rick sat up in bed – fished over the side and came back with his boxers before pulling them on. "I don't think that's a good idea," he stated.

"Because you're still married?" Michonne asked. She mimicked him by sitting up and leaning against the headboard of her bed.

"That. And other thangs..." Rick muttered. He found his shirt and inspected it. Some of the buttons were missing.

Michonne told herself that the small rock settling in her stomach was not disappointment. She figured he may not be comfortable with continuing, even though he had come with her quite willingly this second time. "What is it?" Michonne asked, noticing that he was still looking at his shirt.

He tilted it her way so that she could see her handiwork. She had ripped his shirt open and torn his buttons – once again. "This is the second favorite shirt of mine that you've destroyed," he stated.

Michonne looked unconcerned. "It's flannel," she said. "I was doing you a favor."

Her cell phone vibrated and she looked to see who was sending her a message. It was Andrea. She wanted to know if she could come over to discuss her date.

"Well," Michonne said to Rick. "I guess this is goodbye then. Andrea is about to come over to talk."

Rick scoffed. "Are you serious?" he asked. "It's...It's 11PM!"

"So?" Michonne rebuffed. "Don't judge my friend."

"Fine," Rick sighed. He pulled on his ruined shirt and threw his legs over the bed to look for his shoes.

"Where are you staying?" Michonne asked.

"The Hilton," Rick answered.

"Downtown?"

"Yeah."

Michonne laughed and Rick turned to her, unsure of what she was laughing about. "What?" he asked.

"Are you serious?" Michonne responded. "Why would you tell me where you're staying?" she asked.

"Why wouldn't I?" Rick asked innocently.

Michonne shook her head. "Nothing. No reason," she said, amused.

Rick started to pull his jeans on and a small piece of paper fell out of the back pocket. It was Terry's number. He looked toward Michonne. She was still smiling at whatever it was she found humourous. He remembered her aversion to Terry at the bar and wondered if he should mention that he had the man's phone number.

He picked it up; he wouldn't really have another chance to give it to her if he didn't do it now since he didn't plan on seeing her again.

"So, who was that man at the bar?" Rick asked, broaching the subject. He glanced her way and saw the smile immediately fall off of her face.

"Nobody," Michonne said. She picked up her phone and started to text Andrea back.

Rick hesitated. "Well, he gave me his number-"

Michonne looked up to see Rick holding out a small piece of paper. "I'm not taking that," she said immediately. The incident of that night was starting to crowd in on her again. "Take it out of here with you."

The anger and something almost akin to fear in her voice let Rick know that he should quit while he was ahead; he wasn't going to push it. "Okay," he said. He stood up to finish pulling on his jeans and tucked the paper back into his pocket.

His eyes swept Michonne's bare body. "I'll see you," he said.

Michonne smirked. "No, you won't," she replied. "Remember?"

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The next morning, Rick woke up before his alarm clocks. At first he didn't know what had woken him, but then he heard his phone vibrating on the nightstand.

"Hello?" he answered groggily, as he placed it beside his ear.

"Rick?"

Rick became slightly more alert at the sound of Lori's voice. "Yeah, what is it?"

"...Guess what I found today. In my mom's attic." Lori's voice was thick as if she had just been crying.

"What?" Rick asked, sitting up in bed.

"Pictures of us. When we first got married. And then when we brought Carl home as a baby. Remember that?"

'Remember that?!' Rick was already smiling at the memory. Those had been some of the happiest moments in his life. "Yeah," Rick said. "We were so won over by Carl that we started debating having a second child. That is, until we realized how much of a handful one could be..."

"Exactly," Lori said, chuckling. "Exactly. I was thinking about that today and, Rick, I think..."

Rick waited for her to continue.

"I think I want us to have another child."

Rick was completely awake. He sat up in surprise. "What?" he asked. He had been prepared to hear almost anything, but not that.

"I want to have another child," Lori said again. "I can't remember why we didn't; I guess it's because we both just got too busy, but...I think I'm ready. And I'm ready to move back home."

Completely at a loss for what to say, Rick just remained silent.

"I'll be there when you get back," Lori continued. "I just wanted to call and let you know."

"...Okay," Rick managed to say.

They hung up and Rick wasn't sure how to feel. He had just been preparing to close the door on his multi-year marriage. But if she was willing to try again...that possibly changed everything.

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Later that day, Rick sat through his briefing at work with the rest of the officers and paid full attention to everything that had been found out about the kidnapping case so far.

All of the victims were aged one to four years old and there were six victims so far. The 'missing child' reports started about six months ago and the pattern indicated that there was a child taken each month. All from the same area.

"It is a disgrace!" The captain shouted, his face red and his moustache trembling with passion. "That we have six missing children and no real potential suspects!"

The captain was a large man with an even larger voice. Rick hoped he never got on the man's bad side.

"People watch the news and every time they hear that we don't have answers to these disappearances, they see us as a JOKE! People are living in fear! Houses are going up for sale in Midtown 'cause mothers don't want to risk having their child taken from the playground! Or from the local ice cream shop! How is it...that we have six missing children and no answers?! Bryant! You got anything for me?"

A young man who looked like the last thing he wanted was to be called on began his report. While he talked, Rick studied the face of the children projected on the screen. He wanted to store their images in his mind so that he could recognize them on the spot if needed.

"Thank you, Bryant," the captain shouted. "But everything you gave me was useless! If we don't have this case figured out within this month, we have failed! Thankfully, we have some officers up from King County to help us with this case; gentlemen, raise your hands..."

Rick raised his hand along with a few others.

"I'm not gonna have you introduce yourselves," the captain continued. "This isn't pre-school. You fellas can do that on your own time. What I am going to do is assign you to your job and what part you will play in helping us catch whatever son-of-a-bitch is doing this! According to his or her pattern, the kidnapper will be making another grab some time this coming month – probably within the first week. We do not want that to happen! If you want to feel real powerlessness, you'll feel it if we fail this task and have to break it to yet another parent that their child has most likely been kidnapped. There is nothing worse than a mother who has lost her child..."

Rick was assigned to the late-night stakeout beat and he left the room feeling heavy. When working this job, a lot of things could get him down, but nothing saddened and angered him more than the thought of children being harmed.

"There is nothing worse than a mother who has lost her child..."

His thoughts, unbidden, went to Michonne before he shook the thoughts away. But he couldn't help but to wonder if she was having a better day than he was today.

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"I'll make lunch," Michonne said, pattering around her kitchen, which was simply separated from the living room by a single stainless steel counter cutting across the space so Andrea could see her fully from where she sat.

Andrea spent the night on her living room couch the night before and they spent the morning discussing Andrea's date with Phillip. Apparently Andrea was in love. Michonne didn't know how she felt about the guy, but Andrea was into him so she didn't really have anything to say. Not until she knew him better.

Michonne started to hum and Andrea narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"You seem to be in an awfully good mood..." Andrea said.

"Is that a bad thing?" Michonne asked.

"No," Andrea said. "I just wasn't expecting it after your failed one-night stand last night."

Michonne shrugged. "Well, you know..."

"No, I don't know," Andrea said. She sat up straighter on the couch and stared at Michonne suspiciously for another long moment. "Oh my God..." she said, sensing something amiss. "Mich, did you have sex with someone?"

Michonne tried not to panic. "No!" she lied. "What would make you even ask that?!" She seriously had no idea how Andrea could read her so well.

"You did!" Andrea said, standing up. "You had sex with someone! Who was it?!"

"I didn't have sex with anyone!"

"You're a horrible liar! Tell me! Did you run into Tyreese again after he left?"

"No."

"Then who?!" Andrea made her way toward Michonne's bedroom.

"Where are you going?!" Michonne asked.

"To investigate," Andrea responded.

Michonne sighed and followed Andrea into her bedroom. "You're so invasive, you know that?" Michonne asked, leaning in her bedroom doorway. She was confident that Andrea wouldn't find anything. After Rick left last night, she had made sure to clean up well before Andrea came. And she was glad she had done it.

Andrea searched around the room as if she was P.I. "You know this is ridiculous, right?" Michonne asked.

"What's ridiculous is you meeting someone and not telling your best friend," Andrea said. She suddenly stopped in her tracks as her eyes focused on a spot on the carpet, right next to the headboard of the bed.

Michonne panicked for a moment. 'No way.'

"A-ha!" Andrea shouted. She bent down and picked up whatever she was looking at. When she stood back up with the offending object in hand, Michonne held back a groan.

A button.

"Whose button is this?" Andrea asked. "I don't think it's one of yours."

"...Fine," Michonne said, realizing the game was up. "I slept with someone."

"Who?"

"I'm not going to tell you."

"Really? Is it someone I know?"

Michonne didn't answer; she simply walked back to the kitchen.

"It's someone I know?!" Andrea surmised, following her. "Oh my God..." she said, stopping short. "It's Scott, isn't it? My ex-boyfriend, Scott."

"No!" Michonne said. "I don't even know who that is!"

"Oh, thank God," Andrea sighed, relieved. Then she grew merose again. "I can't believe you're not going to tell me."

She pouted. Michonne ignored her.

"As long as it's not someone who's married, I don't see what the big deal is..." Andrea said.

Michonne studiously showed no response of any kind. She thought that would get Andrea off of her back, but instead it must have tipped her off. "Oh my God!" Andrea yelled. "He's married! You're having an affair with a married man?!"

Michonne sighed and stopped looking for something to make for lunch. "Okay," she said. "Leave." She couldn't deal with Andrea and her uncanny ability to stick her nose in other people's business right now.

"No!" Andrea said. "Just tell me who it is and I promise I won't be a bitch about it-"

Michonne's cell phone vibrated to life atop the glass surface table. Michonne immediately had a bad feeling about who was texting. She and Andrea must have shared the feeling because they glanced at each other before they both rushed into action – tumbling toward the phone on top of the coffee table. Andrea had less of a distance to go and no barriers so she got there first.

Michonne hoped to God it was Tyreese again and not...

Andrea's face fell and Michonne's hopes fell with it.

"Rick?" Andrea asked, her expression darkening more. "King County Rick? Why is he texting you?"

Andrea opened the text message and read it. "Hey," she read aloud. "Just checking in to see how you are after last night."

Michonne avoided Andrea's accusatory stare.

"...Why?" Andrea asked. "Why, after you said you were done-?" Michonne looked up, surprised to see Andrea so upset over this. She knew she would be upset, but not this upset. "And, here I was, happy that you seemed to be feeling better," Andrea said. "I just don't understand why you're doing this to yourself."

"I didn't plan this..." Michonne offered.

"Of course not," Andrea said. She stalked over to the couch and picked up her clutch. "I know you probably won't listen to me," she said. "But stop meeting him. Stop texting him. Allow yourself to heal from Andre and Mike. And go talk to your father and get your fucking job back."

Andrea left Michonne's apartment and closed the door soundly behind her.

Michonne picked up her cell phone and read Rick's message for herself. "Great timing," she muttered.

She grabbed the remote and turned on her flat screen television just to get some noise going in her house.

'Yeah,' Mike's voice said. 'Why are you doing this to yourself?'

Michonne turned the volume up.

"-While leaving Ricky's Bar last night, the victim's vehicle sped into oncoming traffic and he was hit head-on. The impact killed him instantly."

Michonne glanced over at the news report and her blood ran cold when she saw a photo of Terry careen onto the screen.

"The victim is reported to have been driving drunk and there is no reason at all why he should have been behind the wheel..."

It almost didn't feel real. The fact that she had seen him just last night...

Michonne quickly texted Rick. 'Have you seen the news?'

A reply came immediately. 'I just saw it. Are you okay?'

'Yes,' Michonne texted back. 'But can you come over tonight?'

A couple of minutes passed with no response and Michonne hurriedly sent a follow-up message. 'Not for any other reason. But to talk.'

'I have a late night-early morning stakeout,' Rick replied back. 'But I can come before then. Is that okay?'

'Yes,' Michonne responded.

She spent the next few hours waiting anxiously for Rick's arrival. When she heard his knock, she rushed to the door and threw it open.

"Sorry I'm late," Rick said, holding bags of takeout in his hands. "I didn't know if you had eaten so..."

Michonne moved aside for him and allowed him to walk into her house. He sat the bags of food down on her glass table and turned to ask her where the plates were. But before he could speak, he saw that Michonne hadn't moved from her spot at the door after closing it and tears were falling from her eyes.

Before he could move forward to embrace her or open his mouth to ask what was wrong, she folded in on herself and slid down to the floor. "It's my fault," she cried. Rick could barely hear her soft voice.

"What?" he asked, feeling his own heart breaking.

"It's my fault Andre is dead."

\- Thanks for reading, guys. Donate to my P atreon if you want. You can find me by searching Lyra Verse. -


	20. Chapter 20

**-** I got some good news this week! If it works out, I'll share it! Don't forget to support me on P atreon (name Lyra Verse) if you feel so inclined! Love you guys! And a-ha! I got this out this week at least! In a Different World is on its way. -

 **Chapter 20: 6 Days Without An Accident**

Rick recognized the following week to be strange, but also surprisingly easy – surprisingly normal – and surprisingly routine.

He spent a lot of his time working, but when he wasn't working – he spent his time with Michonne.

Sometimes she would call him over and sometimes he would end up knocking on her door unprompted, but they always found themselves in each other's orbit.

Even though Michonne said she wanted to talk on the evening of Terry's death, they never did much talking – not about anything important. They didn't do much of anything...Rick would bring his work over and kill time until his next shift, and Michonne would bustle around rearranging and decorating her apartment for the hundredth time. Or she would clear a spot in the living room and work out while Rick tried not to peek.

He didn't push her to tell him more about her son. He figured she would tell him when she was ready.

"Do you want to watch a movie tonight?" Michonne asked. Today was a workout day. Michonne stretched her connected palms toward the ceiling as she sat with her legs expertly crossed on her yoga mat. Rick glanced up at her and allowed his eyes to take in the cleavage and abs that were presented to his view thanks to her tight, pink, workout crop top. Then he quickly glanced down at the papers before him – information on convicted felons in the area who could be possible suspects for the kidnappings – and tried to stay focused.

"Here or in a theatre?" he asked.

Michonne peeked at him through her eyelashes. "Here."

"What movie?" Rick asked, still trying to keep his focus on the papers.

"I don't know," Michonne said. "Anything." She brought her arms down and maneuvered herself into the pigeon pose. One leg curled under her while the other stretched behind her and she straightened her back, pushing her chest out.

With the movement, Rick glanced up at her again. And he, yet again, admired her form. "Sure," he said. "If you don't mind starting a movie at 4AM."

Michonne smirked. Watching a movie at 4AM would usually be a ridiculous concept to her, but... "Is that when your shift ends?" she asked.

"Yeah," Rick responded.

"I'll set my alarm."

Rick knew it would be reasonable for him to just go to his hotel room and sleep after his shift, but he had given up on being reasonable a while ago. "I'll probably fall asleep in the middle," he said. "But okay."

He watched her change her pose again as she pushed her legs out in front of her and grabbed the soles of her feet to pull herself into a deep stretch.

"Are you taking a break from work?" he asked, realizing he hadn't seen her go out much these past few days.

"Something like that..." Michonne responded.

"What does that mean?"

Rick asked the question delicately. Michonne liked to keep things close to the chest and he knew there was a chance she might not answer or just avoid the question altogether.

"...I don't know," she answered, moving out of the stretch. She stood up and began to roll up her yoga mat. "I'm thinking about quitting the whole attorney thing."

This got Rick's full attention. He looked up at her, surprised. "You're not going to be an attorney anymore?"

"I don't think so, no."

"Why not?" Rick asked.

"I've lost a lot of passion for it," Michonne responded simply. She had been thinking about this more and more lately; this was the first time she was actually speaking about it.

"Well, what are you going to do instead?" Rick asked.

A slow-forming smile began to grow across Michonne's face. "I have something in mind," she said. "I'll tell you when you get back from your shift."

Rick looked down at his watch. It was ten minutes until seven. Time for him to go. "Shit," he said, getting up and gathering his papers. Time seemed to be flying lately. "Okay," he said. "I'll look forward to it." He finished gathering his things and turned back at the door before he left. "Oh! Do you want me to bring back some late-night dinner?"

"Always," Michonne replied.

"Chinese?"

"Of course."

Michonne sat down on the floor in front of her coffee table and picked up her cell phone from where it had been lying on the surface. She shot off a quick text to Andrea. 'Are you still upset?' She waited for a reply which came a few moments later.

'I just worry about you.'

'I know,' Michonne texted back. She was grateful to have a friend who cared about her so much. 'But it's not needed. Meet for breakfast tomorrow? And I'll tell you everything.'

'Okay,' was the reply. 'Let's do donuts!'

Michonne's stomach growled at the mere mention and she mourned the loss of her willpower as she fantasized about the heavily glazed bear claw she was going to devour. 'Okay,' she replied.

With that settled, she stood to take a shower.

She purposefully ignored the questions lying in the dark recesses of her mind, asking her what exactly was going on with her and Rick.

'You can't ignore me forever.' Mike was a faint thought in her head that she pushed away in favor of a peaceful thirty minutes underneath the warm spray of the shower.

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Rick sat in the car on his stakeout with his temporary partner, Dawn Lerner sat in the passenger seat beside him. They lunched on Subway sandwiches and watched the surrounding area.

Rick's nights with Dawn had mostly been silent ones. There was always an adjustment period when dealing with a new partner. Tonight, during the silence, something caught Rick's eye. A woman stepped out of the building across the street from them and turned off the lights as she went. She had short, grey hair and wore a dress shirt and pleated pants. She locked the door as she left.

"What's that building?" Rick asked Dawn, pointing towards it.

Dawn craned her neck to see where he was pointing. "Oh, that's the women's shelter," she said. Seeming to know what he was thinking, she continued. "That woman is Carol Peletier; she manages the place."

"So I'm assuming she's already been questioned about any suspicious activity?" Rick asked. Ever since he had been staking out here, he noticed that she left at very late hours. If anyone had seen anything, it would probably be her.

"She has," Dawn said. "Says she hasn't witnessed anything. Which isn't surprising...a lot of people never suspect horrible things to happen so you'd be surprised how often things that should be deemed suspicious, aren't."

"Yeah..." Rick muttered, responding to Dawn. "I may stop in tomorrow and talk to her again," Rick said.

"Why?" Dawn asked. "You have a hunch?"

"Something like that..."

Rick's cell phone vibrated and he checked to see who was calling. Lori's name appeared on the screen.

"Wife?" Dawn asked.

"Yeah, actually," Rick responded. He kept in mind to return Lori's call later. He turned off the screen only to have it light up with a text message a few seconds later. This time it was Michonne.

"You should answer it if it's important," Dawn said.

"No, this is someone else," Rick replied. He opened up the message and it read: 'Forget the Chinese food; I'm having donuts tomorrow. I don't need the extra calories.'

"Ooh!" Dawn said. "A wife and a girlfriend."

Rick shot her a look. She raised her hands to show innocence. "It's a joke," she said. "Lighten up."

Rick texted back a quick 'Okay' and turned his phone off.

"You got any kids?" Dawn asked, continuing to make small talk.

"Just one," Rick responded.

"How old is he?"

"Going on twelve now. My wife wants to have another one."

"Oh! Great!" When Rick didn't seem to share her enthusiasm, she toned down her excitement. "Or...not great."

"...It's complicated," Rick stated simply.

"Got it..." She picked up her bag of potato chips and offered them to Rick. "...Chips?"

Rick took a few and the car descended back into silence save for the crunch of chips and Rick and his new partner ate together.

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Rick arrived back at Michonne's door at 4:15AM. She greeted him with her hair in a bun and wearing a long t-shirt and black tights. He was glad to see she wasn't wearing her workout clothes anymore.

Michonne's eyes immediately went to Rick's hands and she sighed when she saw that he was empty-handed. "I was kind of hoping you'd bring Chinese anyway..." she admitted.

"I'm sorry," Rick said as he walked past her into the house. "I only did what you asked."

"I know," Michonne said. She closed the door. "And I'll be grateful to you in the morning. For now, I'm just hungry." They traveled back to the couch. Michonne admired Rick in his uniform while he wasn't looking.

'Since when did cops' pants become so fitted?' she wondered as she admired the shape of Rick's rear end.

"So I figured we should watch a horror movie to keep us awake," she said, as Rick took off his gun belt and placed it on her coffee table.

"Which horror movie?" Rick asked. He sat on her couch with a relieved groan and began to take his shoes off.

"A classic," Michonne said, going to sit beside him. "Nightmare on Elm Street."

She started to pick up the remote to start the movie, but Rick stopped her. "Wait," he said. "I want you to tell me what your plans are first?"

"What plans?"

"Remember? You said you were going to tell me what you planned on doing since you don't want to be an attorney anymore."

"Oh, right," Michonne said. "I was hoping you forgot that."

"Nope. So tell me."

Michonne sighed and stood up. "Wait here."

Rick was so tired that he almost fell asleep in the minute that she was gone. When she returned, he forced his eyes open. She came back in, somewhat bashfully, with a scrapbook held to her chest. "Now, don't judge me," she said as she took her seat on the couch once again.

"I won't," Rick said, sitting forward on the couch. Michonne sat the scrapbook on the coffee table.

"Okay," she said. "So I used to paint a little in college..."

"Really?!" Rick asked, not really pegging her as a painter. But with her interest in artwork, he figured he shouldn't be so surprised. "Are you any good?"

"I don't know about good or bad," Michonne said. "I only painted what I felt at the time. And I haven't done it in a few years..."

"Is that what this book is?" Rick asked. "Pictures of your paintings?"

"Yeah," Michonne nodded. She started to open the book, but hesitated before doing so. "Now, again...don't judge."

"Well...do you not want me to have an opinion about them or do you just not want me to voice my opinion?" Rick asked, amusement coloring his voice. "Because, I can tell you right now, the former will be a little hard."

"Just...don't say anything," Michonne said, feeling ridiculously nervous about showing her past art. She wondered if – to someone else's eyes – whether they would look like the equivalent of a kindergardener's finger paintings.

"Okay," Rick said, finding her jitters endearing. "I can do that."

Michonne took a deep breath and opened the book.

On the first page was one image. It was a photo of an abstract painting.

Blues and oranges mixed together to create a beautiful picture that was almost analytical in its composition. Rick could just imagine a younger Michonne, who was driven yet nervous about her future, creating the painting.

He picked up the scrapbook to get a closer look. "Hmm..."

Michonne watched him closely as he flipped to the next page. She was curious about what his 'hmm' meant, but he was keeping his promise and staying otherwise silent so she did her best to read his facial expressions. But he wasn't giving anything away.

"Where are the paintings?" he asked.

"In storage somewhere," Michonne answered vaguely. When she got tired of searching Rick's face for clues, she finally asked. "What do you think?"

"You told me not to say anything," Rick said.

"Yeah," Michonne pushed. "But now I'm asking."

Rick glanced over at her and smiled. Her vulnerability in the face of his possible criticism was cute. "Have you told anyone else about your plans to throw away your case files for paintbrushes?"

"Anyone else like who?"

"Your friends. Family."

"No," Michonne answered. Andrea would usually have been the first person she told, but Andrea had been giving her the cold shoulder for the past week. And she was pretty sure Andrea wouldn't really understand her decision.

"Would your family be supportive of something like this?" Rick asked curiously. "It's a drastic career change."

Michonne picked herself up off of the floor and sat down next to Rick on the couch. She wanted to view the pictures as he was viewing them. "Are you asking if my parents will support my decision?" she asked.

Rick looked over at her, conscious of her body pressed next to his. Some flowery scent wafted from her skin and he vaguely wondered what product she used that produced such a nice smell. "Will they?"

Michonne smiled even though it didn't look like it was completely positive. "The good thing about being in my thirties," Michonne said, hoisting her leg up onto the couch and turning to face Rick. "Is that I don't have to worry about what my parents – more specifically, my Dad – think anymore."

"Is your Dad why you got into law in the first place?" Rick asked, his voice lower due to her close proximity.

"He wasn't the only reason," Michonne said. "But he definitely encouraged me to follow his example. And don't think I didn't notice that you changed the subject from my paintings. Does that mean they're bad?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Rick teased.

"Yeah, I would," Michonne replied.

Rick smirked as he quite enjoyed keeping Michonne on tenterhooks. He patted her knee as an act of reassurance but also as a reason just to touch her. "First, tell me more about your Dad." Every time Michonne opened up to him a little, he wanted to know a bit more.

"No," Michonne said. "Tell me more about my paintings."

Rick chuckled at her rebuttal. "Okay," he said. "How about this? You ask me something about your paintings and I answer...I ask something about you and you answer."

Michonne considered for a moment. "...Fine," she said. She propped her elbow up onto the back of the couch and admired Rick's profile.

"Alright," Rick said, circling his thumb on Michonne's knee. "Ask me what you wanna know."

Michonne turned to look at the painting Rick was currently looking at. It was an acrylic abstract from back when she was experimenting with color field painting. It was a burst of red on white canvas with a spattering of black on top.

"Does looking at that make you feel anything?" Michonne asked.

Rick studied the painting for a moment as he absentmindedly trailed his fingers up and down Michonne's inner thigh. "Mmm..." Rick considered. "It seems kind of...angry?"

Michonne smiled and Rick looked at her for confirmation. "Is that right?" he asked.

Michonne shrugged. "There's no right or wrong," she said. "You feel what you feel. I'm just glad you're responding to it."

"Well, were you angry when you painted it?"

"Is that the question you want to ask me?"

Rick realized his dilemma. "No," he said regretfully.

Michonne chuckled and threaded her fingers through Rick's. "I was angry at the time," Michonne said, letting him off the hook. "This was a while ago...way back in Freshman year of college and...it was after I lost my virginity." Rick turned to her with interest and Michonne laughed. "It was against my principles at that time, and the guy – my "boyfriend" at the time – broke up with me after. So not only was I beating myself up and thinking that my parents were going to kill me if they ever found out, but I found out that I had given my virginity to the exact type of guy I had been warned about so..."

"You still have this painting? After all this time?"

Michonne nodded. "I've kept them all."

Rick raised his eyebrows. "Hmm."

Michonne gently ran her hands through the curls at the back of Rick's head. "You can ask me whatever you want now," she said.

"Well..." Rick said. "There's a lot that I want to know so I'll leave it up to you...What do you wanna tell me?"

"What do I want to tell you?"

"Yeah."

"What makes you think I want to tell you anything?"

"Well, you're telling me about your personal plans to be an artist..." Rick said, still holding Michonne's hand. "Something you say you haven't told anybody else. I'm just hoping to keep the momentum going..."

"Oh, so you think you're special," Michonne joked.

Struggling to keep his eyes open, Rick chuckled. "I just want you to talk about anything that might be bothering you..."

Michonne nodded toward her scrapbook. "Turn the page."

Rick turned the page and came across a painting that was a swirl of pink and light blue consorting softly on white canvas. Speckles of yellow stood out in certain areas. Rick immediately felt happy when looking at it.

"That's the last painting I did," Michonne said. "And my most recent one. I painted it in my last trimester...when I was pregnant with Andre."

Rick immediately became more alert and awake. He kept quiet and still – he practically held his breath – for fear that Michonne would, for some reason, stop talking if he said or did the wrong thing.

"Mike and I had been trying to get pregnant for about three months before it happened." A tremulous smile came across Michonne's face. "The minute...I knew Andre was coming was the happiest I've ever been in my life. And that feeling was...constant. No matter how frustrated or tired I got...Andre was...Andre was everything."

Michonne's voice cracked and Rick squeezed her hand. He glanced over at her. She wasn't crying, but he could see that she was making an effort to keep it together.

She cleared her throat. She opened her mouth to speak again, but words didn't seem to come.

"It's okay," Rick offered, allowing her time to talk or not talk if that was what she wanted.

"I~" Michonne's voice trembled and she started over. "When Mike died, I was so focused on grieving for him and trying to figure out exactly why and how he was gone that...I left Andre with the wrong person. While I was searching for answers, I left him with Terry. Mike's friend – a friend I never liked-" Michonne closed her eyes, regretting the decision even in that moment. "I knew Terry was irresponsible. I knew he couldn't be trusted-!"

Rick sat Michonne's scrapbook aside and turned to her to give her a hug. The affection was the tipping point that caused Michonne's tears to fall.

"I just heard Mike's brother was coming to town and I rushed off to meet him; I figured I would only be a few minutes. I didn't know..."

"Shh," Rick whispered, rubbing Michonne's back. "It's okay. It's okay." His heart hurt for the woman in his arms; he wanted to comfort her as much as he could. "It's not your fault." As he held Michonne, he was again struck by how strange his relationship to Michonne may be but in the moment, he embraced the relationship just as he embraced Michonne.

"It is," Michonne said. "It is my fault. It was my responsibility to take care of my son. I could have honored Mike by taking care of our son."

Rick, again, felt overwhelming guilt at the role he played in Mike's death. "I'm sorry," he said. Rick held Michonne tighter and she returned his embrace – all that was on her mind was the comfort she was getting from Rick's arms.

"Stay with me tonight, Rick."

"Of course I will."

\- Rick and Michonne continue to keep their relationship unquestioned...Hmm...We'll see if that'll continue to work. -


	21. Chapter 21

\- Alright. So here's what I'm gonna do. Due to my recent bout of writer's block and the fact that I'm gonna get hella busier in the next few weeks, I'm gonna put out shorter updates to my fics.

I think the fact that I'm always aiming to write 3000-5000 word fics is one of the reasons that I'm so intimidated by actually getting my writing done. So I'll be writing shorter updates but, hopefully, more frequent ones. So with that said...Here's my latest update to Loss and Gain.

The poll for what fic I should update next is promptly going to be put up on my P atreon page, so if you're a patron and want to vote, go ahead and put in your vote. -

Chapter 21: Can't Go Back

Michonne was comforted by Rick's touch and his gentle whispers in her ear.

They were still nestled on the couch. The photo album containing pictures of Michonne's paintings lay open to the side of Rick. It was still open to the last painting – the painting she had created when she was pregnant with Andre. Michonne's eyes still rested on it while her head rested on Rick's chest. Rick stroked her arm, reassuring her physically when he couldn't do it verbally.

Michonne closed her heavy-lidded eyes. They were heavy from the tears she had just finished crying and Rick's shirt was soaked with their remains.

She breathed in the scent of him – a scent akin to sandalwood – and it contented her. But scared her at the same time.

She didn't like how right this felt. She didn't like how good it felt to be wrapped around him.

She suddenly shifted so that she could look him in the eyes. He stared back at her, his eyes full of care and concern. Michonne moved in to kiss his lips, meeting them just as they parted in a second of surprise.

"What are you doing?" Rick asked before she could deepen the kiss.

"We haven't had sex any this past week," Michonne said bluntly. She scooted in closer to Rick's body. "We should probably fix that."

She moved in and captured Rick's lips with her own again.

The menu screen of _The Nightmare On Elm Street_ was still being projected from the television screen. Between Michonne telling Rick about Andre and her current move to straddle him, the movie they had been planning to watch had become a forgotten event.

Rick gripped Michonne's hips as she settled on top of him and she could feel his growing excitement beneath her. But he took a moment to pull away from her when they broke for air. "I can't," he breathed.

Michonne tried to hold back the sudden rush of frustration that filled her chest. "Why are you here then?" she asked.

The comfort she felt due to Rick's presence unsettled her. She didn't want to grow dependant on him being there and she didn't want either one of them to start to confuse what they had going on at the moment to be something more than it was.

Rick didn't respond, so she continued. "Sex is sex, remember? I thought that's what this was supposed to be about."

Early morning light began to stream through the windows of Michonne's apartment.

"Lori wants us to have another baby..." Rick confessed.

"Is that what you wanna do?" Michonne asked. "Because I won't stop you from leaving. I already have someone ready to fill in if you can't give me what I want."

Rick almost laughed at the way she spoke of having sex. "Oh yeah?" he asked. "Who?"

Michonne leaned over and twisted her body to grab her cell phone off of the coffee table. Rick held tightly to her sides to keep her anchored so that she wouldn't fall off of his lap. He tried to will himself not to feel even more turned on by her movement.

She straightened back up and faced Rick with the phone in her hand. "Tyreese," she said, showing him a picture of the man he had seen for only a few moments the week before.

Rick squinted and took the cell phone. "This the guy you went on a date with?" he asked.

"Yep," Michonne replied. "We've been talking."

Rick didn't hesitate to go to her messages. "About what?"

Michonne hurriedly snatched her phone back and shut it off. "None of your business. I'm just letting you know I don't need you."

Rick smiled softly. It surprised him how much he genuinely enjoyed being with Michonne. It surprised him even more how easy it was. They shared a natural, playful rapport that most other people wouldn't understand – especially due to their complicated and intertwined histories.

The small smile fell off of Rick's lips as he descended into his own thoughts. His hand unconsciously drifted up and down Michonne's clothed thigh.

Rick had never been a man to question himself. He always had a plan set for himself in life and he always followed that plan. From his first year of high school, he knew what he was going to grow up to be. He soon also knew who he was going to marry. And his plans never conflicted with his morals or his nature.

But that had all changed. He wasn't sure when...

He wasn't sure if it had been the night he had covered for Shane after Mike's death or whether it had been the moment Michonne had stepped into King County. But now what felt natural and right conflicted with everything he knew to be so.

All of his plans were out the window and with Michonne...right and wrong didn't seem so concrete.

He lifted her off of his lap and placed her onto her back on the couch. Settling in beside her, he propped himself up onto his elbow so that he was looking down into her face.

Michonne waited for his next move, almost holding her breath in anticipation.

He only looked at her, his blue-eyed gaze penetrating. He delved into her and got beneath her skin without a single touch. His gaze moved from her eyes, to her lips, to her collarbone.

Michonne breathed deeply, feeling heated underneath his stare. When his gaze reached her breasts, she shifted as a spark ignited between her thighs. She felt like he was already undressing her. That he was already trailing his rough fingers over her warm skin. Her anticipation built to the point that when he actually did touch her by lying his hand gently on her hip, she jumped a little.

He brought his eyes up to meet hers again. "I want to hear more about your paintings," he said, his voice a raspy whisper.

Michonne's brow furrowed slightly. She obviously hadn't been expecting him to broach this topic again. Or _any_ topic for that matter. She had been expecting their bodies to do the talking for the next few minutes.

Rick picked up her photo album and flipped through the pages. "If I asked you to paint a picture of me, what would you paint?"

Michonne took the album away from him and put it on the coffee table. "I'm not going to talk about my paintings anymore," she said. "The agreement is that we just have sex. No feelings. No talking. Just sex."

"What agreement?" Rick asked. "I don't remember making any agreement."

Michonne mimicked Rick's pose and propped herself up onto her arm, facing him. "The non-verbal agreement we made when you came over and put me on the hall table."

"You were a lawyer," Rick said. "You know nothing's official unless you get it in writing."

Michonne picked her cell phone back up. "Should I call Tyreese then?"

Rick took the cell phone from her hand and deposited it on the arm of the couch. "Just tell me what you would paint," he prompted. "Would you paint me in dark colors or bright?"

Michonne sighed before deciding to humor him with what he wanted. "I would paint you as is," she replied.

"Why?"

'Because everything else disappears when I'm with you,' Michonne thought. 'The future. The past. Resentment...' But of course Michonne didn't say that. She wanted to pretend she didn't even think it. Instead she moved in to kiss Rick again, stopping when she was only inches from his lips. "There's only one thing I want from you, Rick Grimes," she said. "Either give it to me or get out."

Michonne was sure he would get up and leave. She almost hoped he would. But he gripped her waist and gently pushed her onto her back. He looked down at her, his eyes again piercing into her own.

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"Fine," Rick said. As he looked at her, his cares of anything else faded more and more into the background. As it did every time. "You don't want to talk."

He had wanted to somehow suss out her feelings for him. He wondered if she was still angry at him. If she hated him. All he knew was how he felt.

He was no longer angry at her for coming in and shaking up his life. His anger had dissipated at some unknown point in time between realizing her true intentions after coming to King County and getting to know her all over again. He didn't blame her for his marriage being at the troubled point it was at now. He and Lori had been having troubles long before Michonne came into the picture. They would have eventually reached a point when they had to face those troubles whether Michonne came along or not.

But if she still blamed him for ruining her life...even partially...He didn't know how he could continue being with her, knowing his presence caused her some kind of pain.

So he wanted to know how she felt.

"But I'll talk," he continued.

He pulled Michonne's long, brown sleeping shirt up past her hips – to her waist. So that he could see the band of her tights hugging her curves.

He placed his hand on Michonne's stomach. Even the rise and fall caused by her slow, deep breathing aroused him.

"I don't know what this is we have going on..." he said, his voice a low whisper and sounding foreign even to his own ears. "And I don't really know how you think of me. But I want to make you happy." His eyes stayed on hers, which became more hooded as he trailed his hand downward. "And even though I realize that if I give you what you want right now, that that will be the final nail in the coffin of my marriage – everything in me is telling me to do it." He lifted the band of her tights and Michonne held her breath. "Fourteen years of marriage down the drain just because I want to please a woman who probably still hates me – a woman who will probably want nothing to do with me in a couple of weeks..." Rick's fingers inched beneath her tights. "It would be stupid of me to keep going, wouldn't it?"

His voice was deep and full of desire. "Very stupid," Michonne responded. Her voice matched his.

Rick pushed his hand fully beneath the fabric of her tights until he was cupping the full, bare glory of her womanhood.

Michonne gasped – her back arched off of the couch and her legs involuntarily widened to welcome Rick's grasp of her.

Rick reveled in the brief flash of ecstasy that washed over her face at the pleasure of his first touch. Like a tidal wave, all other thoughts were drowned from his mind. All that mattered was her next gasp and moan.

He gently rolled the palm of his hand against her clitoris until he gradually felt her become more and more wet. His growing member pushed against the fabric of his pants as he watched her stomach rise and fall more quickly with each hastened breath and she began to roll her hips to meet the friction of his hand.

Michonne's mouth fell open and Rick's gaze became more intense as he looked down at her.

Her eyes were glazed over with pleasure.

Seeing – and feeling – that she was more than ready for him to take things to the next level, he paused only long enough to insert two of his fingers inside of her. His thumb continued to stimulate her clit.

A soft, gasping moan escaped Michonne's lips and she grasped Rick's arm. She could feel his forearm muscles flexing as he inserted his fingers in and out of her.

Feeling overwhelmed by his own building arousal, Rick leaned forward to place a sloppy kiss on her lips. They breathed together in frantic disharmony as Michonne felt herself getting closer and closer to satisfaction. She writhed underneath his skilled hand and her moaning grew louder and more frequent.

Rick placed kisses from her jawline to her ear. "Do you like that?" he whispered. He usually wasn't one to talk much during intimacy, but he was doing a lot of things he had never done before.

"Yes," Michonne gasped. "God, yes."

She clumsily reached out to palm the front of his pants, where she immediately felt his bulge. She grasped him, wanting him to give him some of the pleasure she was getting. But with a preoccupied mind, she wasn't sure if she was doing a good job.

"Oh my God," she moaned as she felt herself about to climax.

Rick increased the speed and pressure of his fingers until her muscles clenched and he felt his hand become coated with her essence. Rick kept his fingers inside of her until she released the grip on his arm and her body fell, lax, against the couch cushions.

Due to his heightened arousal, Rick's member was straining against his pants, but he carefully moved away from Michonne's hand. This wasn't about him.

He pulled himself free of Michonne's tights just as the sound of an alarm began to blare through the room.

It was coming from Michonne's cell phone. She grabbed it and shut it off while barely looking at it. "I'm supposed to meet Andrea for breakfast," she explained. She glanced over at Rick and then down at his bulging hard-on. "I'll take care of you next time," she said. "...If there's a next time."

Rick seemed to be deep in thought. "...There'll be a next time..." he said.

Recognizing something strange about his tone, Michonne kept her eyes on him. "Like I said," she said. "There doesn't have to be. If you leave right now and don't come back, I'll never contact you again. I'll never look for you. You don't have to leave your wife for me; this isn't a relationship."

All of her words sounded hurtful and threatening, even though Rick knew she meant them as comfort. "I know," Rick said. He realized he was making his ultimate decision. "There'll be a next time."

Michonne continued to watch him carefully, still unsure about what he was thinking. "Okay..." she finally said.

Deep inside, she felt a jolt of happiness knowing that she would be intimate with Rick again. But even more prevalent was the fear of that happiness.

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Michonne entered the bakery and spotted Andrea sitting at a table by the window. Looking happy to see her, her blonde-haired friend waved her over.

'Here goes,' Michonne thought, ready to get bombarded by questions she wasn't sure she was prepared to answer yet.

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Before Rick approached the women's shelter to speak to the woman he had spotted the night before on his stakeout, Rick decided to get a difficult situation out of the way.

He pulled up Lori's number on his cell phone and gave her a call. She answered on the third ring.

" _Hello?"_

"Lori, yeah. It's me, Rick."

" _Yeah. Go ahead."_

"We can talk about this more when we meet face-to-face. But I don't think having another child is right for us."


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22: I Know I'm Not Winning Any Mother-of-the-Year Awards**

"Are you _sure_ you haven't seen anything? Anything at all?" Rick asked, pushing gently for information.

"I can sit here and answer you all day," Carol said with a soft chuckle in her voice. "I haven't seen anything."

He was facing the manager of the women's shelter, who was calmly organizing her desk. Carol Peletier had short, gray hair, blue eyes, and a quiet demeanor. She looked gentle and spoke in a soft voice, but there was a hardened edge to the woman that made Rick sure that he was only seeing her surface – what she wanted him to see. And no matter how innocent she seemed, anyone who was hiding something from him caused him to become more alert.

Rick looked around the room. The walls were dark green and the paint was coming off in a few places. The only source of light was a ceiling light so caked with dirt that it didn't much serve its function. The walls were cluttered with old, seemingly random paintings – the kind you might just pick up from an old antique shop just because – and an old armchair sat in the far corner of the tiny room.

Rick looked around some more.

No family photos.

"How long have you been working here?" he asked the woman.

Carol looked up at him with something close to disbelief momentarily cutting through the put-on patience on her face. "Are you investigating me?" she asked.

Rick shook his head. "No; I'd have to take you down to the station for that," he said. "No, I'm just asking you questions."

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Michonne entered the bakery and was instantly overwhelmed with the aroma of sweet breads. Her eyes flitted around the room and landed almost immediately on Andrea, who was beckoning her over to a raised table in front of a large window. Andrea's hair was in a ponytail and a pair of shades rested atop her head. Michonne indicated that she saw her, went to the counter to make a quick order, and then she went to sit down.

When she sat down, Andrea didn't waste any time in getting right down to the matter at hand. "So what are you doing with Rick?"

A laugh escaped Michonne's lips because she was so dumbfounded at the suddenness of the question. "What do you mean what am I doing with him?" she asked, settling into her seat and settling in for an onslaught of questions from her nosy best friend.

Andrea fixed her with a stare. "You know what I mean. Have you met him again since that night he left? Is he still in Atlanta?"

Having agreed to be honest, Michonne smiled before answering. "Yes he is. I was with him this morning."

It was obvious that Andrea restrained her tongue at that information. "You've been seeing him the whole time he's been here?" she asked.

"Yeah, I have," Michonne replied.

"Why?" Andrea asked. The question was laced with pure curiosity, as she didn't understand where her friend's mind was.

There was that question Michonne knew she would have to answer. She chewed on her words for a bit, not even sure if she knew why exactly she was entertaining this thing with Rick. She was grateful when a server came by to give her the mug of coffee she ordered. Steam rose from it in waves and Michonne studied that for a bit as she thought. Finally, she spoke. "I don't know."

Andrea fell back against her seat, disappointed. The cushioned backrest of the chair that looked too expensive for such a low-key cafe muted the sound. "You don't know," she repeated back, letting Michonne know that she needed more than that. "What do you mean you don't know? Do you like him?"

Michonne didn't even need to think. "Yeah," she answered. She liked him. She had stopped lying to herself about that a while ago.

Again, Andrea wrestled with her tongue. "So what did you two do this morning?" she ended up asking.

Michonne shook her head. "Nothing much." She took a sip of her coffee.

Andrea narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You're telling me he stayed over until the early morning and nothing happened?"

"Well..." Michonne remembered the way his deft fingers led her to a quick orgasm. "We've had sex a couple of times now, but..." She searched for words to say. To describe what she was feeling.

"It's not just about the sex," she finally admitted. "Even though I told myself that's all it was. It's easy with him and I'm..." She stopped talking, realizing she was about to say 'happy'. 'I'm happy with him?' she thought. The realization itself coming as a surprise to her.

"You don't blame him for Mike anymore?" Andrea asked, breaking Michonne's train of thought.

"I don't," Michonne answered. "He wasn't the one to pull the trigger."

"No, but his best friend was."

"His best friend that he no longer talks to," Michonne amended.

"How do you know?" Andrea asked. She fired her questions – quick and direct. "Did he tell you that? And even if he doesn't, isn't that because of what happened between Shane and his wife and not because of what happened with Mike?"

Michonne kept her expression neutral even though annoyance with her friend was growing. "He regrets the part he played in what happened."

"So you forgive him?" Andrea's arms were crossed over her chest and she studied Michonne's face closely.

"I said I did, didn't I?" Michonne asked, stirring her drink with an irritated hand.

"No. You said you didn't blame him," Andrea corrected.

Michonne sighed, frustrated with the semantics. "That's the same thing."

"No, it isn't." Andrea fixed Michonne with a stare – unapologetic of her nettling.

"Fine," Michonne acquiesed. "I forgive him. Happy?"

Andrea shrugged. "This isn't about what I feel. It's about you. I'm just trying to look out for you."

Michonne released the frustrated tension in her shoulders, knowing Andrea was being truthful. "I know," she said. "But you don't need to look out for me. I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?" Andrea continued, but her voice softened considerably. "Have you asked yourself why you're really doing this?"

Michonne swirled the coffee around in her mug. The truth was that she hadn't considered why she was meething with Rick. She was just following her emotions and doing what felt good in the moment. She glanced around the quiet cafe, wishing there was more bustle. It was too quiet with only six other customers in the establishment. "There's no deeper meaning to it," Michonne said. "We're just having fun."

Andrea sat forward in her seat. "...You wanna know what I think?"

Michonne chuckled and took a sip of her coffee. "Not really," she said when she sat the mug back down. "But I'm sure you're going to tell me anyway."

Andrea ignored her friend's sass and did just that. "I think the two of you both had a lot of trauma and mixed up emotions about this past incident. You tried to cope by focusing on this silly revenge scheme; Rick tried to cope by burying himself in work and pretending that what happened never happened. But now the two of you are just taking that trauma and trying to work it out another way."

After taking another sip of her coffee, Michonne asked, "Is that so bad?"

Andrea sat back, surprised at her friend. "...Aren't you thinking about his wife at all?"

"No," Michonne answered truthfully. "That's Rick's issue to deal with."

"And his son?" Andrea asked.

Michonne stayed quiet, thinking about the eleven-year-old whom she had surprisingly come to care for. If he were to find out all of this business between the adults, she was sure that he wouldn't look at her the same. "It's not my fault that Rick and his wife are separated. Lori kissed Shane without any prompting from me."

"But you're sure not helping the matter," Andrea responded. Michonne didn't dispute that fact. She couldn't. "You should end it," Andrea finished. "As your friend, who only wants what's best for you...that's my advice."

Michonne shifted in her seat as she took Andrea's words to heart. "We will," she finally said. "This was never gonna be anything permanent. I'll never see him again once he leaves from Atlanta."

"You should end it before then," Andrea persisted. "Now."

Michonne fiddled with the handle of her coffee cup. "I'll think about it," she said.

Andrea didn't know whether Michonne was just saying that to keep her satisfied or if she really meant it, but she decided to move on from the subject – knowing Michonne was ready to. And pressing the matter wouldn't help. Besides, she had something else she wanted to talk about.

"Are you gonna come back to work?" Andrea asked.

Michonne raised her eyebrows. With the topic change, she was preparing to be pestered again by her friend. "About that..."

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Something wasn't adding up.

Rick sat outside of the women's shelter with his eyes fixed on the building. It was dusk and the sun was beginning to go down, but he replayed the woman – Carol's – story over and over again in his mind.

From what he gathered, she was a widower who had successfully escaped from an abusive relationship. But not before she lost her daughter at the hands of the very man she had married. During a drunken rage one night, the man had come home and took his anger out on his wife – as usual – until she lost consciousness. But with his wife unconscious, his anger hadn't subsided, and he turned all of it onto their child who must have been watching frightfully from the side.

Rick thought back to Carol's face when he recalled the next part of her story. The pain there had been palpable. She told him that when she regained consciousness, she saw her daughter lying unconscious in the corner and her husband was gone. He had run away.

" _She must have huddled there when he came at her,"_ Carol had said, her words coming with difficulty. _"But he didn't stop. Why didn't he stop?"_

Sympathy filled Rick's chest at the mere rememberance. How anyone could do that to their child, he didn't know.

Carol recounted that when she went closer, she discovered that her child wasn't breathing and doctors had not been able to revive her. Her husband, Ed, got caught only a few hours later after creating a drunken disturbance in a grocery story a few miles away. He was now in jail, where he belonged. And he was probably lucky to be there. Because from Carol's gaze, Rick knew she was serious when she said she would kill him if he ever got out.

But it wasn't that heartwrenching story that caused Rick to dwell on this. It was the pure rage and pain Carol displayed while telling her story juxtaposed with the calm, almost dismissive, way she spoke of the missing kids in the area. With her being a mom, he would expect news about missing children to upset her more. Especially after her own tragedy.

He picked up his phone and dialed the station and he asked for them to retrieve the file on Ed Peletier. He was going to pay the man a visit and look into this more.

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Michonne was exhausted after dealing with Andrea all day. After breakfast, they had gone shopping. All the while Andrea had talked non-stop, trying to convince Michonne to make amends with her father and go back to the law firm.

" _At least until you sell a few paintings_ ," Andrea had pleaded. _"Get your old job back until you know making this transition is actually worth it."_

From where she sat on the floor Michonne stretched her feet out in front of her, beneath the coffee table. And she laid her head back onto the couch cushion behind her. More than anything, Andrea's nagging had convinced Michonne that she was making the right decision. Andrea was tiring. And at the law firm, almost everyone was an Andrea. Aggressive and argumentative – determined to move anyone else to their point of view.

'I hope Rick's day went better than mine,' she thought.

 _'There you go, thinking about Rick again_ ,' Michonne's inner thoughts berated her in Mike's voice. As she remembered him sounding. She closed her eyes to clear her mind.

"Right..." she said aloud. "I shouldn't do that."

Instead, she grabbed the scrapbook that was still laid out on her coffee table and she flipped to the painting she had done when she was pregnant with Andre. How she felt at that time came back to her, dampened only by the fact that it was a memory. She sighed and held the scrapbook close, imagining that it was Andre himself. "I miss you," she whispered.

She didn't want to be introspective, but she _did_ realize one thing after her talk with Andrea. Her anger hadn't been fueled solely by what had happened with Mike. Her anger had been fueled by the guilt she felt over her son's death. Now that she realized that, she didn't know who to be angry at anymore. Other than herself, that is.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," she continued.

She started to drift off into an early sleep when she was snapped back awake with a knock on the door. She already predicted who it was going to be and she wasn't disappointed when she opened the entryway.

It was Rick.

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Michonne lay stretched out beneath Rick on the bed. Her torso was bare and only black lace panties preserved her modesty.

Rick's loins tightened at the sight of Michonne's exposed round breasts. His own torso was bare as well but jeans still covered his lower half, riding low on his hips. He could tell that Michonne was ready for his touch from the way that her stomach rose and fell with each hastened breath. Her knees were pulled up and legs slightly open – inviting him to slide between them and ride her to the peak of oblivion. But he was a little hesitant tonight...

His eyes slid up to his belt, which was wrapped around her wrists and kept her restrained to the headboard. At her request, he had lifted her hands above her head and tied her there. Now she was completely at his mercy, waiting for his next move.

"Are you sure about this?" Rick asked. Even as he asked the question, his voice trembled with desire. He had never been one to do this kind of thing in the bedroom before, but he couldn't deny that the sight of Michonne lying submissively in wait with lusty eyes left him shaking.

"Never been more sure about anything," Michonne responded. She subtly swiveled her hips, showing him how much she wanted this.

Always ready to please, Rick set his reservations aside. He hooked his thumbs under the band of his jeans and slid them off. Then he followed with his boxers. His erect member stood at attention and the tip glistened with early proof of his need.

Rick had decided that morning that he was going to be all-in with this. Whatever 'this' was. He wouldn't be having another child with Lori and he wouldn't try to continue with his marriage. His perfectly boring-but-steady way of life was through. It had been since this woman had come into his life. He only hoped he could keep Carl as secure in this transition as possible and he hoped he would have the courage to talk to Michonne about his decision tonight. He didn't know where she wanted to stand, but he knew he wouldn't mind if she stuck around.

When he slipped her panties down over her legs, he was immediately greeted with the heady scent of her arousal. He tossed her underwear – wet with desire – to the side and began to kiss his way up her leg.

Michonne lifted her hips, impatient for him to reach her center.

Rick pushed her legs further apart and placed light, butterfly kisses on both of her inner thighs. Then he fluttered kisses around her wanting lips, teasing her with the anticipation of what was to come. He figured why not. With her hands tied, he was the one in control of how she got pleasure and when.

He flicked his tongue against her clitoris, causing her to flinch with pleasure and pull air between her teeth.

Rick pulled back, giving and then taking away. He placed kisses along her stomach. "How was your day?" he asked.

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"I really don't want to talk about my day right now, Rick," Michonne responded, wanting him to use his mouth for purposes other than talking.

"But I want you to tell me," Rick said. He placed another kiss next to her belly button. Michonne shuddered. It seemed every part of her was a stimulation zone with Rick. "If not...I don't think you'll like what'll happen." Rick gently bit down on Michonne with his teeth and more of her natural lubricant formed between her legs.

She was tempted to challenge him on that threat, but she didn't want to risk him not going down on her.

"It was okay," she answered.

As a reward for her cooperation, Rick immediately moved back between her legs and placed his lips over the peak of her sensitivity. Michonne let out a sighing moan. He darted his tongue against her a few times and then covered her lips completely and lapped at her wet folds. Michonne gripped the belt that held her tight and began to move her hips against his lips.

"Yes," she whispered.

He wrapped his arm around her middle to hold her in place and used his fingers to flick her clitoris as his tongue expertly played over her slit. "What did you two talk about?" he asked, as if he was casually conversating over dinner. Which she guessed he was in a way. It was just that she was the main course.

She tried to form words, but her mind and body would only respond to what he was doing to her. "Rick..." she moaned.

"You talked about me?" Rick asked, deftly inserting two of his fingers into her center. Michonne was both surprised and pleased at his initiative. She hadn't expected it due to his initial reluctance at her request that he tie her up.

Realizing that Rick was still expecting a response from her, Michonne struggled to remember the question even while Rick's tongue and fingers distracted her. When she finally managed to think, she realized that her answer worked. "Yeah," she replied. They _had_ talked about him.

Rick paused his ministrations on her body. "You talked about me?" he asked again, this time more surprised than playful. There was a moment that he panicked a bit. He had assumed this Atlanta tryst was solely a secret between them. He didn't know that Andrea knew.

"Yeah," Michonne answered again.

Knowing that Andrea didn't know him well and he didn't know Andrea well, he tried not to let it bother him. "All good things, I hope." He removed his fingers from her and positioned himself at her entrance.

Michonne opened her legs wider for him, eager. "Not really," she responded, remembering the way Andrea's face twisted up at any mention of Rick. Andrea probably thought he was a piece of shit. 'And she probably thinks I'm a piece of shit for sleeping with him,' Michonne thought. 'And she's not completely wrong.'

His hardness slid into her lubricated center easily and Michonne felt something akin to euphoria. Her eyes closed and her mouth fell open. She could feel him throbbing inside of her as he held still, waiting for her to adjust to him. This wasn't the first time that they were doing this, but he still felt somewhat new.

"Hard, Rick," Michonne reminded him of the way she liked it.

"I'm gonna go slow," Rick said, reminding her that she wasn't in any position to be making demands. He was in control.

Even more turned on by his rebellion, Michonne gripped the belt that held her tightly as Rick rotated his hips in an excruciatingly slow motion. Michonne forced herself to stay still, a willing participant in his torturous game. "Mmm!" she moaned as he pushed inside of her quite forcefully after pulling his member out for a prolonged length of time.

Rick trembled as he started his slow withdrawal once again. Michonne's walls pulled at him as he went, a beckoning force that tempted him not to leave her heat. "God, Michonne..." Rick groaned. He pushed back into her, unable to leave her completely.

Michonne's toes curled, his slow strokes bringing more pleasure than she could have imagined. "It feels good, Rick," she muttered. "So good."

At her words, Rick continued his rhythm. But it didn't take long for him to give in to his own lust and speed up the pace. His pelvis rocked against hers; their breaths matched each thrust. Looking down at Michonne with her hands tied and her perfect breasts bouncing left Rick speechless. Only guttural grunts emerged every now and then.

Michonne was glad they left the lights on because she could see the way that Rick's eyes darkened the more he became lost in passion. She wondered if he ever fucked his wife the way he was fucking her and the lorid thought caused her to raise her hips to meet his own. She felt both wretched and wonderful. And she was coming closer and closer to being driven by nothing but pure primal need. "Fuck me, Rick," she urged.

Rick grasped her breast in his hand, almost too hard. Michonne loved it. She moaned.

"You're perfect," Rick whispered, in awe of her beautiful body writhing beneath him. Her nipples stood erect and hard. Acting on only his urges, Rick slapped her breast gently.

Michonne clenched around him, surprised but aroused at his spontaneous aggression. Michonne groaned and lifted her hips to take him deeper. "Again," she moaned.

Rick slapped her breast again, harder this time. Michonne pulled at her restraint and her hips bucked involuntarily. Overcome with raw abandon, Rick dove forward and placed his lips over hers – kissing her hard as he pounded into her. The kiss was sloppy and clumsy but they didn't care.

"Yes. Rick," Michonne moaned.

Their tryst had become hard and frenzied. The smell of sex was heavy in the air and the sound of skin slapping against skin was loud. Rick had lost himself completely. He had never had sex like this before – raw and uninhibited. He moved his hands underneath Michonne's hips and lifted her off of the bed so that he could go deeper.

"I'm coming," Michonne moaned. "I'm coming, I'm coming." She gripped the belt that restrained her tight as she reached orgasm. Her juices spilled out and coated his member. Rick increased the speed of his thrusts, chasing his own satisfaction. It didn't take long for him to get there. Still holding her hips in the air, Rick gave one more thrust and his seed spilled inside of her.

Michonne felt his short breaths hitting her ear as he came.

Michonne thanked God that she had taken a birth control pill that day.

When Rick came back to his senses, he panicked a bit. He didn't know how he could have let things go so far. It was as if he had let one moment of pleasure override all common sense. "I'm sorry," he said, withdrawing. "I shouldn't have done that."

"It's okay," Michonne assured him as he untied her wrists. "I'm on the pill."

"Ohh, thank God," Rick said, falling to the bed in relief. Things were already confusing enough. He didn't need to add to the problem by impregnating the woman he was having an affair with. They laid staring at the ceiling, trying to catch their breath. Eventually, Michonne rolled over onto her side and laid her head on his shoulder. "Why'd you ask me to tie you up?" Rick asked. "Are you...into that kind of thing?"

Michonne chuckled. "It was actually my first time," she admitted. "Never been tied up before."

"Oh," Rick said, slightly relieved. He didn't know how many more surprises he could handle.

"I just..." Michonne continued. "I talked to Andrea today and she kept asking why I was doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Sleeping with you."

"Oh."

Michonne looked up at Rick. "Do you know why you're sleeping with me?"

"Because I'm attracted to you," Rick answered honestly. "Even though I know it may be wrong."

Michonne stared at Rick. She hadn't expected such a simplistic answer. "That's it?" she asked. "It's not because you feel sorry or are trying to make atonements?"

Rick's brow furrowed. "No," he said. He drew back, surprised. "Is that what you think?"

Michonne shook her head and answered, "I don't know."

Not pleased that Michonne thought he could have been sleeping with her for such trivial reasons, Rick sat up. "Wait. So why are you sleeping with _me_?"

Michonne sat up along with him. She answered carefully but honestly. "...I can't help but to think that I'm trying to punish myself in some way."

Rick couldn't help but to be hurt. "You're punishing yourself by sleeping with me?"

Michonne tried to explain. "Whenever I think of Andre...or even Carl...I don't feel like what we're doing is right..." she said. "And I feel horrible. And I like that I feel horrible. But today I was thinking about what Andre would think if he actually saw me and...I don't think you should come here anymore." She avoided looking at Rick. "I'm sorry."

Unexpectedly, Rick felt his heart breaking in two. Until now, not even he knew that he cared this much. But what could he do? They had never promised each other anything. In fact, they had started this knowing that it was only temporary. "Sorry for what?" Rick asked, feigning indifference. "This is probably for the best. One of us needed to end it. I'm glad it's you."

Michonne watched him get up from the bed, somewhat surprised at the turn things were taking. She hadn't woken up that morning expecting to end things with Rick. She hadn't even expected to end things at the time when she talked to Andrea. But when she thought about Andre, she couldn't help but to align her guilt with Rick.

Rick dressed and started to leave. Before he reached the doorway, he turned over his shoulder. "I'm glad you're coming face-to-face with how you feel," he said sincerely.

Michonne nodded. "Me too. I hope you find happiness, whatever decision you make about your marriage..."

Rick smiled sadly and nodded. "Me too..." he returned.

He left the room and after a while, Michonne heard the front door open and close. She released a breath that she was holding. 'Okay,' she thought. 'I did the right thing, right? So why do I still feel bad?'


	23. Chapter 23

\- Short update, but it's an update. Yay! -

Chapter 23:

 _2 Years Later_

Full lips and an eager tongue stroked and suctioned the length of Rick's hardened manhood.

Since his first experience of receiving a blowjob when he was a young adult, from his then new wife Lori, he had never been able to describe the sensation of it. It was blissful. The pleasure of being surrounded in warmth and wetness, the muscles of the mouth pulling at him with more control, purpose, and skill than the walls of a woman's vagina. It was glorious.

He never told his wife how much he loved getting them because she didn't always love giving them, but it was one of his favorite ways to be pleased.

And the fervor with which Michonne's tongue and lips played along his hardness made him feel weak. He moaned and trembled, all vestiges and care for perceived stereotypical manliness gone.

He spread his legs and raised his knees, giving her better access to do as she pleased.

Michonne gripped the base of his penis and interrupted her fast rhythm to enact a long, slow descent down his shaft. She removed her hand and gripped his thighs so that she had no barrier. Rick moaned again when he realized what she was doing. She was going to go all the way. She was going to take all of him in.

"Oh God, Michonne," he moaned.

The tip of his member hit the back of her throat before she skillfully allowed him full entry, swallowing him. The constrictions of her throat pulsing on his manhood caused him to shudder and his eyelashes to flicker. He placed his hands on the back of her head, wanting to keep her there and experience eternal orgasmic bliss.

But it wasn't meant to be.

A buzzing and brush of contact right next to Rick's ear became a minor distraction and then a major one when it continued. He jerked his head over to the side to try to get away and opened his eyes.

He awoke.

It had all been a dream.

Rick sighed and let his head fall back against his soaked pillow - whether it was wet from sweat or drool, he did not know - and he lamented multiple things at once. Like the fact that he had just dreamed about Michonne when he had managed to keep her from his mind for the last couple of months now, the fact that he was sporting major morning wood like a teenager, and the realization that he was waking up alone. Which was a really sobering and depressing realization after the dream he had just had.

The offending creature that had awoken him to this reality made itself known in the form of a fly as it flew above his face and then zoomed off to enjoy its existence, oblivious and uncaring of the human whose morning it had just ruined.

Rick threw his sheet off of himself and was greeted by the sight of his arousal standing at attention. With a quick glance at the digital clock located on his nightstand, he saw that he had a good forty minutes to get up and get ready for work. He made a quick decision.

Closing his eyes, he conjured up Michonne's image in his mind again (which wasn't hard because his mind is where she now lived as opposed to earlier times when she only visited).

He wrapped his hand around his member and imagined that it was her mouth on him again. That she was between his legs, indulging in the taste of him.

His hand worked furiously, as he didn't want to be late for work. He imagined her mouth matching his pace, her head moving up and down. His speed increased as his passion and his pleasure began to build.

He imagined the mound of her shapely hips rising in the air as she worked at him with her tongue.

His body tensed, ready for release, as that image stayed in his mind.

"Fuck," he ground out, before he grunted and felt the seed of his body spill out over his hand.

For the first moment, he felt overwhelming relief and bliss, but when the high of his climax died down, he couldn't help but to chuckle at how pathetic he felt.

'This is what my life has come to,' he thought, as he threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up.

For some, Rick's life would be ideal. In fact, from the outside looking in, it was.

Rick had come back from Atlanta with accolades and respect.

After spending weeks following his hunch on further investigating Carol Peletier, the manager of the women's shelter, it finally paid off when he discovered that there was definitely more to her than there originally seemed to be.

When he discovered a running theme of traits in the parents of the missing children - abusers, drug addicts, neglectful - he began to wonder if the kidnapper was working on some perceived sense of moral responsibility by taking children from whom he or she deemed were undeserving parents. This led to him further looking into the woman who had suffered a tragic incident in her own home and the leads he followed resulted in him breaking what he was sure would be one of the biggest cases of his career. One that involved an underground black market adoption service that catered to a lot of wealthy people that, for whatever reason, wanted their adoptions kept secret. One couple had been a celebrity couple that simply didn't want the public knowing the wife was barren and that they had to resort to adoption. Whatever the case, Ms. Peletier had sworn up and down that she did thorough research on the people she sold the children to and that they were in a better situation than what they had come from. Rick simply told her it wasn't her right to determine that, and she had been carted off into custody where he was sure she would spend many years in prison. That's if the court system didn't take sympathy on her and give her mental treatment due to the tragedy she had experienced with her husband and daughter.

The children involved in the case had all been reunited with their families, some taken into foster care if their home life wasn't deemed appropriate, and the story had run across all news stations for weeks, making Rick pretty much locally famous. He had already been well regarded in his small town of King County, but now people treated him like a celebrity. He didn't much like it. He just wanted to get back to simplicity and familiarity. That's why he had turned down permanently working in Atlanta to come back home in the first place even though it offered more money and more opportunities.

That's part of the reason why he left Atlanta and came back to King County anyway.

The other reason had been the five foot seven inches of trouble he would be constantly drawn to if he were to stay there.

It could be said that Rick's success now was at least twenty percent due to Michonne since it's because he was trying to respect her wishes and stay away that he delved into his work so hard. If it wasn't for her ending their nightly visits, who knows how long it would have taken him to piece together the patterns he did? Or if he even would have at all.

He pulled on his uniform after taking a shower, scarfed down his toast, and stepped out of his front door.

It was a blistering Georgia day, as usual.

"Hey, Rick."

"Hey, Sheriff."

"How you doing today, Sheriff?"

A round of people greeting him as he walked through town to the police department met Rick's ears. He nodded and greeted everyone in return.

"Rick."

Lori's voice stopped him in his tracks as he hurried to get out of the range of attention.

"Yeah," he said, walking toward her. "What is it?"

Lori's hair was pulled into a ponytail and it looked like she hadn't had a good night's sleep if the bags under her eyes were any indication.

Rick's relationship with Lori was as strained as ever. When he first arrived back in King County, they had given their marriage a try again. They had even started attempting to have another child. With no luck. And that caused an even tighter strain on an already breaking partnership. Lori was currently staying with Mrs. Niedermeyer, a long-time resident of King County. Rick had told her that he could be the one to move out and stay in a hotel, but Lori didn't think it was fair since he was the one paying the mortgage on their home.

"Carl stayed at Dwayne's last night," she said. "Good thing too because I think I'm coming down with something."

Rick did notice a slight thickness in her voice and the case of sniffles she seemed to have.

She looked at her watch. "He should be at school now, though. I was just going over to check on him."

Rick nodded. "Okay," he said. "Text me and let me know if he's at school when you get there." He hadn't really had anymore trouble with Carl skipping school and fighting, but Carl still seemed to be less cheerful than he used to be. He wanted to stay on top of his son's moods and make sure everything was okay.

"Are _you_ okay?" he asked his wife. Her glances kept being cast downward and the closer he looked, it seemed that more than exhaustion was cause for the bags under her eyes. It looked like she had been crying as well.

"I'm okay," she said. A momentary pause landed and it seemed as if she would leave it at that. But she spoke again, bringing forth a hesitant thought that was on her tongue. "Do you want to sit outside and watch the stars tonight? Like we used to?"

Rick was surprised by the offer. But his mind immediately went to the days when they were slightly younger and new when they would sit outside in the darkness and take advantage of the natural lighting from the stars, giggling and conversing and fantasizing about an unknown future. An unbidden smile came to his lips. "Yeah," he said, actually looking forward to it. "Yeah. We can do that."

Lori smiled softly at the accepted invitation and nodded. "It's a date."

The couple parted from each other, excited for the first time in a while about simply enjoying each other's company again.

That feeling was muted for Rick when he realized he would be seeing Shane when he stepped into his workplace. They were still not speaking. And it was hard to avoid someone whom you worked in close quarters with and who lived in the same small town as you did. It had become an everyday dread of Rick's to think about facing Shane.

He shrugged his thoughts off when he got to the door of his work building. It was just something he would have to deal with.

"Hey Rick!"

"How was your morning?"

"You doing good?"

Rick received a similar round of greetings as he had as he stepped out of his home that morning when he opened the door to the precinct. He wondered when he would get used to this - his new life.

Michonne woke up with sun streaming through her window, and she immediately smiled. She rolled over onto her side and stood up, losing any dredges of sleep that plagued her as she went over to the crib that stood just a foot away from her bed.

"How are you doing, Angel?" she cooed, bending down to pick up a beautiful caramel colored girl with a head full of dark curls and mahogany eyes. "Did you miss Mama while you slept?"

-TO BE CONTINUED-

\- Yes, I'm leaving on a cliffhanger, but we all know what's happening here, don't we? *wink*


End file.
